


this is just how it goes

by Supernaturallyharrypotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, F/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Canon, Post-Hogwarts, Slow Burn, not smut, will add as story continues - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supernaturallyharrypotter/pseuds/Supernaturallyharrypotter
Summary: what happens after the Second Wizarding War ends . . . from directly after to 5 years post-war  (H/Hr, mostly canon compliant, with the exception of the epilogue)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 64





	1. what happens first

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, I don't know what this is about. maybe it's just what I want to happen after the 7th book, idk
> 
> the chance of real plot (like any type of conflict other than just world building and interpersonal drama) is pretty much slim to none, but it's a nice release to just write about what I wish happened. 
> 
> I think it's completely in agreeance with canon, though I might change things up down the line. 
> 
> I really don’t anticipate a lot of anything from this, and I'll probably write as long as this hyperfixation remains. 
> 
> anyways, feeling kind of funky so I'll probably jump around a fair bit in the timeline, so let me know if it gets unbearably confusing.

"So," Hermione said, biting her lip.

Ginny glanced up from magazine she was flipping through, leaving a thumb behind to mark her place.

"He asked me out."

Ginny's eyebrows came together, "Who are we talking about?"

"Harry."

"Oh."

Hermione watched her carefully, noticing as she tried to hide her look of . . . anger? She wasn't sure.

Ginny forced a laugh, "Did you let him down easy?"

Dropping her eyes to the knitting needles in her hands, Hermione paused. "Erm, no."

"Oh," said Ginny. 

"I mean it's one date." Hermione pressed her lips together. "Nothing will come of it, probably."

"Yeah," Ginny's voice sounded falsely bright. 

Hermione wasn't sure what to say. They sat in silence for a bit.

"You're okay with it, though?" she asked.

"Yeah--yes," Ginny gave a tight smile, "it's fine."

* * *

As Hermione left the Burrow that evening (Molly had insisted she stay through dinner), she thought back. It had been around 8 months since Harry and Ginny had last broken up. 

It had also been 5 years since Voldemort had fallen. In the time elapsed, things had been rather, chaotic. 

Hermione spent the summer convincing Harry and Ron to return to Hogwarts with her, so they could complete their 7th year. Harry had agreed after she argued that he needed his NEWTs to pursue his dream of becoming an Auror, or really anything else he decided to do. 

Ron had taken a lot more. So much more, in fact, that Hermione had nearly given up. That is, until Molly heard them discussing it one day, and settled the matter with a simple, "Ronald Weasley, you completing school isn't even up for debate!"

None of them had high expectations for how it would go, how it would be to back in the place where they had watched so many good people die a few months earlier. It was painful at first, and really awkward. 

She remembered the first night there, watching the first-years get sorted. It was different than she remembered--from the replacement of Professor Sprout as their guide from the boats, to the absence of Dumbledore in the central seat at the table, and most significantly (nauseatingly, she thought), what must have been the smallest group of first years she'd ever seen. 

"There are more than last year, at least," Neville had said, seeing the look on her face. 

It got better from there. Despite the somber feeling, the realization had dawned after a couple of weeks that there wasn't anything hanging over them. 

Hermione noted how happy Harry seemed, lighter and more optimistic than she had ever seen him before. 

The point being, though, that was the end of Ginny and Harry's first time really being together. It wasn't until the end of the school year that they got back together again. They stayed together until . . . Hermione couldn't remember exactly when, but it was probably about a year. 

It got hard to keep track after that, though she was probably distracted by her own dating life. Her and Ron had followed a different yet similar path.

The summer before their (repeat) 7th year, Ron became insufferable: insulting everyone who looked at him wrong, brushing off her careful requests to _see a therapist_ , and so on. 

Hermione felt bad, knowing that the loss of his brother was a deep pain, and one that would never end. However, she finally had enough of it and dumped him (read: told him that they needed to be apart for the sake of both of their mental health) after a couple weeks of this behavior. It was a blow out fight, one that was loud enough to make even the ghoul uncomfortable.

They stayed broken up until the end of their last school year, when they got back together. They were together for a while, until Hermione's 22nd birthday. Or, rather, the day after, when Ron thought her birthday was. 

That was it for her. And aside from a couple situations that could possibly be construed as dates (Harry had lost his mind laughing about one of such occasions), they remained friends. 

In the midst of all of that, Harry and Ginny were separating and getting back together so quickly that sometimes she didn't even think Harry knew what was going on. 

But, during some of their breaks (the longest being the year when they were 21), Harry and Ginny had dated other people. Added to the fact that they had gone back to speaking normally (kind of), everyone thought they might actually be finished. 

Hermione had spoken to Harry when they'd most recently broken up, saying that he was sure they were done forever. She'd doubted it, though now that he'd asked her out . . .

And it wasn't that Hermione was surprised by Ginny's reaction, necessarily, but more so confused. As far as she knew, Ginny had been on plenty of dates in the months passed, ones that she seemed to enjoy greatly. 

* * *

**[a week earlier]**

"Hermione," Harry grinned as he opened the door.

"I don't know why you act like that," she said as she rolled her eyes. "We just had lunch two days ago."

He just laughed. 

Luna and Neville were set to arrive later that night, along with a couple other people. 

She stepped through the doorway of Number 12, glancing around at the changes made. After she and Ron had helped for few months to try to brighten the place up and really get rid of all of the remaining nastiness, Harry gave up. He called a magical contractor on their sixth day straight of trying to unstick one of the portraits, who arrived and promptly cleared all of the undesirable objects. 

They all felt rather stupid, knowing how much time they'd wasted (secretly, though, she blamed Ron for not knowing, especially when he mentioned after the contractor left how often his father had spoken about them when he was younger). 

It looked even better now, the heavy black crown molding and wood details had been painted white (a task another contractor was needed for), the floor had been magically refinished, and thanks to a hired interior designer Hermione thought the place look magazine worthy. 

She hung her purse on a hook next to the door, and slipped off her shoes. Harry led her to the sitting room, where the TV was already on. 

This was an addition that led to great confusion from all (but excitement from Mr Weasley), and something that came after Harry deciding that he could not bear being so bored when he was alone in this new home. 

She dropped onto the couch as he grabbed glasses, pouring a drink for himself and for her. 

"What in the world are you grinning about?" she asked. The grin still hadn't left his face. 

"I've something to ask you," he said, handing her one of the glasses and watching as she sniffed its contents. 

"What's that, Harry?"

He sat next to her, taking a sip and staring at the TV for a minute. She noted how his grin weakened.

"It's not too serious . . . just something I've been thinking about," he rubbed the back of his neck, "You don't need to say yes . . . obviously."

Hermione had no clue what was going on. "What are you talking about?"

He turned, making direct eye contact with her, pressing his lips together as though deciding whether or not to ask. "Never mind."

The concern Hermione felt was clear and she was just on the brink of voicing it, going so far as to open her mouth, when she thought it might be better to drop it. 

The night after that was pretty uneventful, ending up with four other people present. She hadn't planned on it, but she'd even had so much fun that she'd forgotten to keep track of her drinks, having more than she would have otherwise. 

It was around 1 in the morning when they decided to call it a night. And, with a series of 4 cracks, Harry and Hermione were again alone.

She stayed behind for a bit, doing as many cleaning spells as she could (though considering how drunk she was the quality was dubious), and trying to get the place back in order. 

"Who knew so few people could make such a mess?" she laughed to herself, taking note the various empty bottles, discarded plates, and random other objects scattered around the house. 

They worked individually, taking a divide and conquer approach to cleaning the disaster that had somehow touched every room on the main floor. She made her way to the kitchen, jaw dropping at what looked like the aftermath of a hurricane. 

Various colored lights shot from her wand in every direction, trying to put everything to the way it had been before. 

"Would you go on a date with me?"

"Huh?" Hermione whirled around, surprised to see Harry behind her, in the doorway of the kitchen. She cringed- she heard a couple dishes shatter as her attention was lost and they dropped swiftly to the floor. 

"Like I said earlier, you don't have to."

She narrowed her eyes. "How much have you had to drink?"

He rolled his eyes. 

"No, I mean it. Are you being serious? Or are you just drunk?"

Harry shrugged, "I've been thinking about it for a few days now so I think I'm serious."

She was quiet, absentmindedly conducting a rag with her wand as it ran back and forth over the kitchen counters. 

"Yes," she said with certainty, turning back to face him. 

The awkwardness lasted for a moment, interrupted by an eruption of laughter caused by the cleaning rag spontaneously bursting into flames. 

The rest of the cleaning went swiftly, though their impaired senses may have lowered their expectations slightly. 

She thought more about it as she Apparated onto her own front doorstep. It really wasn't something that she would have proposed, though she would be lying she said she hadn't ever considered it. 

Despite her reservations, she fell asleep that night with a smile. 

* * *

She woke the next morning still drunk. It was early in the morning, around the time she usually got up, though earlier than she wanted to be awake on this morning. 

She rubbed at her eyes, blearily gazing around for the source of her consciousness. At the sight of her two cats curled up and fast asleep--one on the pillow next to her and the other by her feet-- she sat up suddenly. 

Freezing, she listened for noise. 

After ten seconds of holding her breath she realized what it was. She stumbled out into the tiny kitchen of her flat, tapping the window with her wand when she reached it. 

An owl perched on the edge, sticking out a leg and looking unblinkingly at her as it waited. 

"Sorry about that," she mumbled. Her fingers were clumsy, taking longer to untie the mysterious little note tied to its scaly foot. 

A frown appeared on her face, the contents of the letter displeased her. So much, in fact, that she didn't even notice that the owl had flown off. 

_you're really going on a date with Harry?_ it read. 

From the scrawl and loopiness of the letters she didn't even bother to read the signature, dropping the parchment on the counter and heading back to bed. 

As though it was any of his business, she thought to herself, yanking the covers back on top her her. 

Despite her annoyance, it only took her seconds to fall back asleep.


	2. back in time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wakes up the next day. We see Harry and Hermione take a trip to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is certainly longer than my last chapter. I had to cut myself off because I keep on coming up with random tangents. Let me know if the times are getting confusing, I'm sorry. I think the only way I can tell this story is on shuffle. 
> 
> uhhhh . . . so I also keep on trying to work everything out, and I think I'm going to run on the assumption that with the exception of the 7th years, it's okay if everyone else simply misses a year of school. Since Ron and the Weasleys had to make up a reason for why he didn't go to school, I assume that anyone who didn't flee the country went to school and just got evil education. 
> 
> anyways, have fun

**[a memory, around a year ago]**

She laughed awkwardly, "What do you mean?"

"I think we should give it another shot," he said.

"Another shot?" she asked incredulously. "Ron, there's no way you've already forgotten how horrid we were together."

"It wasn't all bad," he responded, voice high.

"I think it would be better now."

She shook her head, "I don't think it would."

"You don't want to try again?"

"We know exactly how it'll go, Ron"

But that was just how it went, that was how it _always_ went. 

It drove her crazy, not just because he kept asking, but mostly because of how close she came to saying yes sometimes. 

What made it all worse, though, was the fact that no matter how many times she said no, he'd ask again with the most unbelievable confidence. 

It was cute the first time, but by the third time--when she could tell from the glances he kept shooting her that night across the table--it was just annoying. 

She wasn't sure why he'd asked so many times, though thankfully at this point he hadn't asked since a couple months after they broke up. 

What brought it to her mind now, was the fact that the memory came to her so vividly that she sat straight up, violently yanked from sleep.

* * *

**[present]**

For the second time that night, Ron had woken her up without even being there. Hermione tried to put that out of her mind. 

She wasn't just lying when she fell asleep telling herself that she'd considered it. (It being a date with Harry.) Yes, she had certainly considered it. 

She'd considered it a couple times in 5th year, only once during 6th year, possibly a couple times during the wedding the summer after 6th year, probably not a lot when they were first on the run, definitely a lot in the tent, even more after Ron left, some times after that, their first mid-summer ride to Hogwarts (Ron wasn't with them that time) . . . the list kept going, probably to the point where it was easier to list when she _hadn't_ considered it. Hell, she'd even considered it earlier that week, at the lunch they'd had now three days ago. 

It wasn't that it was hard for her to say yes, since she literally couldn't believe was she was hearing it, it was that she didn't think she heard him correctly. 

She didn't believe it so much that when she woke up the next morning (for real this time) she knew it had to have been a dream--it's not like it would've been the first time she had a dream about something like that. She put it out of her mind, brushing her hair and teeth, washing her face, telling herself that getting her hopes up that it was anything other than just a dream was a stupid thing for her to do. It's not like it mattered that much, she had a job, friends, her parents were okay, she was happy.

(It's funny how telling yourself the same thing over and over doesn't make it come true. She thought she was happy, and she was very nearly happy. Which made it so unfortunate that the little voice in the back of her mind kept her from that true happiness, asking always _what if?)_

As far as she knew, it was dream, everything was the same as it had been the day before. So when she went about the rest of her Saturday morning routine: putting on the kettle, checking the water in the cat bowls, grabbing their food, and scanning the refrigerator for her own breakfast.

She did all of this manually, having discovered after a few _very bad_ mishaps that she really shouldn't be doing magic so close to waking up. 

"Dickens! Crookshanks!" Within seconds they'd arrived, nearly wiping her feet from under her as they rushed towards the new food. 

"Your bowls weren't even empty!" she said, laughing. 

She kept going, repeating an internal mantra that she'd just dreamed about Harry asking her out (that same little voice asked her how many dreams about her friends asking her out was enough to seek help--in her defense one was a memory), going over to make her tea when the kettle whistled. 

It was when she was nearly done, dropping a touch of sugar and the tiniest bit of cream into her tea, that she saw Ron's note. 

_It did happen._

* * *

**[5 years prior, early July, two months after the Battle at Hogwarts]**

It was, in fact, during that aforementioned mid-summer Ron-less Hogwarts train ride that Harry had considered it, too. Like Hermione, this definitely wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. 

But there they sat, returning to Hogwarts to the first time in three months. The anxiety came in waves off of each of them, making the train car feel hot. They probably felt as though the train were filled, the train compartment filled to the brim with other people--but they were completely alone on that train. 

Harry remembered about ten minutes into the ride, asking Hermione if she had any idea if they still sold Honeydukes on the train, or if that was only for the scheduled rides for all of the students. She told him she didn't know. She didn't, A History of Hogwarts had never mentioned anything of the sort.

That made it really unfortunate when now-Headmaster Professor McGonagall mentioned how the trolley-cart witch had been killed the year prior. 

The train ride was long, and the silence they sat in wasn't exactly awkward, except for the fact that they clearly wanted to comfort one another (and repeatedly tried to) only to realize they didn't have any words of reassurance. 

The silence did, luckily, lapse around lunch time. 

"You know what I've been thinking about?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah?" his mouth was full, it came out as mumble, he tried to cover his mouth with a hand.

She resisted the urge to compare him to Ron, a topic that would certainly create negative tension since neither of them knew whether he'd be joining them for their final school year or not. 

"I've done countless hours of research, read so many books, but there isn't a protocol for what happens if an entire year needs to return." She let out a breath, blowing enough air to force some wayward hair strands out of her face.

Harry had swallowed at this point, "Isn't that why we're headed there now?"

"Well, yes, obviously," she looked down at the book in her hands. "What I mean is, it's shocking. There've been hundreds of years of students before us, and we're the first year to want to finish?"

His brow furrowed. "How is that possible? What about during the first war?"

"No," she shook her head, "there wasn't anything. At least as far as I could tell."

The soft sound of the book pages flipping filled the air. 

"I mean, at least not on a large enough scale for it to be notable. I even asked Professor McGonagall, hoping she might have a better idea. She didn't, said that back then it was handled on a case by case basis.

"But there's just so many questions. I don't even know how to ask them all." She let out another puff of air. "And that's not even counting-" she stopped suddenly, voice cracking and tears rapidly welling up. 

Harry knew what she meant, though. How could they go back when they'd watched so many people die? How would they be able to return to partially filled classrooms? Another thought made him shudder, what if some of them stayed as ghosts? He put his sandwich down quickly, feeling suddenly overcome with nausea. 

She knew from the look on his face that she shouldn't ask. "Have you thought at all about Quidditch, though?"

"Erm . . . yeah I suppose," he lied. He'd thought about it. He'd spoken with Ron about it. He'd spoken with Ginny about it. Thinking about Quidditch was something that kept him up at night. 

"How do you think it's gonna work?" she asked. 

He shrugged. "The only thing I've been able to come up with," he paused, considering whether it was a good enough idea to voice (especially since he'd never suggested it to anyone else, "Is possibly having two teams."

"Oh!" Hermione seemed overjoyed at the suggestion. "Harry! Harry, that's a wonderful idea. I'd never even thought about that . . . I mean I probably did for a while when we were in school. It may've been the Muggle in me, but it seemed terrifying for you to at age 11 to play against people six years older than you." 

He'd never thought about that. So he shrugged again, "I was just thinking that if we have tryouts, if there's enough good people for two teams, then we'll have two teams."

Hermione was already scribbling furiously in a notebook. "And each house will have two teams? Right? So that the different level teams can play each other . . ." she trailed off, quill continuing to scratch away. 

"Yeah, I dunno how popular it'll be, but I know that there are loads of people in our year that always wanted to play, but never got the chance. I figure the other years are similar, and it seems unfair to everyone to not allow that to happen. Anyways, what've you been thinking about?"

"I've been more focused on the other logistics. I asked earlier in the summer when I sent my letter to McGonagall whether there would be enough dormitories. She said yes, since Hogwarts is magical, after all, and each year's dormitory is literally different.

"Then I mentioned food, but she said that was a non-issue-" here went another unspoken thing: the fact that there would certainly be enough food because even with half of their year returning, there still wouldn't be as many students as in normal times at Hogwarts. "Let's see, I said something about classes, but she assured me that they were planning on keeping our year and the current 7th years separate. I'm not sure why I was concerned about that-"

Harry knew that was because she was concerned about everything.

"-but the answer was very reassuring. There were other things, too. Oh! I'm also wondering about how Head Boy and Head Girl will work."

Harry hadn't even thought about it. Of course she had, since it was something that she'd wanted since she first found out about it in their first year. 

"Shouldn't those go to the new 7th years?" he asked.

Hermione froze. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. 

"I just mean that they've been here, at least most of them have. I figure we've already ruined their last year enough, finding out that they're still not going to be the oldest," he said hastily, trying to qualify his answer. He didn't think it worked. 

She didn't agree with that idea--or at least she didn't want to agree. But she knew he was right. Especially because she knew without a shadow of a doubt that the position was hers. She also realized, in that moment, that they were going back to Hogwarts, but it wasn't ever going to be the real 7th year they deserved. 

A beat passed, one where she remained unreadable and Harry was in complete suspense. "You're right," she sounded defeated.

They didn't mention that again. Instead, they looked out the window, making up stories for each house or animal they went by. 

At one point Harry stood up, grabbing a bag from the overhead compartment. 

"What's that?" she asked.

He didn't respond, choosing instead to dump it all onto the seat next to him. 

She laughed, it was filled with Honeydukes candy. "Why'd you bring all this?"

"I was worried they wouldn't have any food," he said, motioning for her to pick some. 

When they arrived at Hogwarts, duffle bags on their shoulders and backs, Harry remembered dinner. 

He was excited for a moment, his favorite foods and desserts were waiting for him, until he also remembered that it was likely to be a meal unlike what they'd experienced before. 

And, fifteen minutes later as they stood in the Dining Hall, the prediction truer than either expected, they shared a wide-eyed look. 

It was empty. 

As they gazed around, no signs of damage were evident and any repairs that had been made were so subtle that they were indistinguishable from how it'd been before. 

Harry's jaw dropped as he looked up, feeling like the remaining childhood had been ripped from him. The normally vibrant ceiling was blank, just light plaster between the rafters. 

"I apologize for this," Professor McGonagall said, shoes clicking as she entered the door behind them. "It's been a proper mess for a while, and we realized that none of the repairs could be made until we paused the enchantments." She waved her wand and a small rectangular table appeared, one so tiny that it didn't look like more than a couple people could squeeze onto each side. 

"Just you two tonight, the staff has been eating at odd times, as is usual during the summer months." She was gone before they could thank her. 

They ate in a tense silence, Hermione wiping away tears that Harry pretended not to see, and Harry coughing ( he choked on food as memories resurfaced) while Hermione acted as though she couldn’t hear. 

For the first time, the castle felt empty. The blank ceiling, the empty vastness of the Hall, the strange lack of ghosts- despite their tendency to head towards anyone eating-it all made them feel horrible. They ate more quickly.

Half an hour later, just as Hermione gently placed her napkin next to her plate, along with one of her pre-written thank you notes to the house elves, the sound of McGonagall's shoes came into focus. 

They followed her, eyes sweeping every familiar hallway and staircase. 

"Professor?" Harry asked. "Where did all of the ghosts go?"

"They usually prefer to roam the grounds during the summer months."

"Oh." While a small part of him wished even to see Peeves again, the fear of seeing someone more recently turned ghost tamped down any desire to see them. 

A few minutes later they reached the twin griffins. "Earwax," she told them, "We're going through the bean flavors now."

When they finally entered the office, Harry's jaw dropped. 

The place was completely different from any of her predecessors. The shelves that had been covered in all manners of objects and random things had been replaced with the tallest shelving system he'd ever seen. Brown so dark they were nearly black, all with hundreds of small square cubbies. Each had an identical bin inside that would've made it impossible to find anything if not for the neat little labels on each one. 

For a second he hated it, it felt like all of the quirkiness was gone. It was, but it was replaced with a very different sort of feeling. Certainty, trust, he wasn't sure yet. 

At least the sterility of the shelves and the plain stone walls was offset by rich red and green chairs and sofas, deep enough to get a wonderful sleep in. 

Hermione loved it. 

"One moment, please," McGonagall told them, walking past her desk and up the stairs to the raised platform in the back of the room. 

They each looked around, mentally making all of the comparisons between her office and the way that Dumbledore's had looked. 

"Miss Granger, Mr Potter." They retraced the steps she had taken, again surprised when they were greeting with sitting room furniture. 

The fireplace was lit, the moon was on the brink of rushing into the sky, it was serene. 

"It's late already and I presume you two are tired from the long ride. We don't need to talk business tonight." She wordlessly tapped her wand on the table, a shiny silver platter with three mugs and teapot popped into its surface.

"What is it?" Harry asked after she motioned for them to pour themselves a drink. 

"Try it," she gave a rare smile. 

He did. It was hot chocolate. Which made his eyebrows shoot up when he saw steaming pumpkin juice as Hermione poured her own drink. 

The three of them sat, sipping their drinks, giving a run down of all that had occurred since the battle had ended. 

At some point a cat had appeared and had quickly acquainted itself with Hermione and promptly fallen asleep on her lap. 

* * *

**[a couple hours later]**

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said.

"Yes?" Hermione and Harry stopped in the doorway.

"I've just discovered that my cat is going to be having a kitten. I know that you're rather responsible and clearly you get along with her. I've certainly got enough on my plate as it is, so I wondered if you might like-"

"Yes!" Hermione gasped, the little bit of restraint she had previously all but flew out the window as she ran and flung her arms around the woman. 

By the time she let go, the genuine smile had been covered up again, but Harry assured her later that it was there the professor's face. 

They'd reached the bottom of the stair before Harry voiced what they both realized, "Where are we supposed to sleep?"

Before they could think to turn around and go back up, McGonagall appeared behind them. "I'd normally let you sleep in the Gryffindor dormitory, but it's currently being undergoing some work."

Hermione opened her mouth to ask what work that was, but McGonagall plowed on.

"So, there's a few spare dormitories spread throughout the castle," she pointed her wand at the floor and a sparking path appeared, "Good night."

They followed it, weaving up stair cases, down some hallways. At one point it led them up a ladder, only to make them climb through the trapdoor at the top, turn around in a circle twice, then follow it back down the ladder. 

It took them up to a door, where they waited for the glowing path to make a sharp u-turn from, and were pleasantly surprised when it disappeared.

The door popped open on its own, revealing a large sitting room with two steps in the back leading to a hallway that was probably for the bedrooms. They went down the hall, Hermione claiming the first bedroom and Harry claiming the second. There was a bathroom at the end of the hall. 

"Goodnight, Harry," Hermione said a few minutes later, poking her head into his room. She was wearing her pajamas and the fresh look of her face made it clear that she'd just washed it. 

"G'night, Hermione." 

Once they were both in their beds, the lights went out automatically, leaving them each alone with their thoughts in the quiet. All of the shuttered up feelings from the day stayed with them, simply growing in magnitude in the absence of distraction.

"Harry," she whispered, peaking past the closed door into his room.

He didn't say anything, simply rolling over to the far right side of the bed. 

"Thanks," she said, slipping onto the other side. 

It didn't help much, they both still silently cried themselves to sleep. 

But at least they weren't alone.

* * *

Early the next morning, soft summer sunlight peeking through the window, Harry woke up. He turned, suddenly remembering his best friend next to him--she wasn't there. 

As it often had before, Hermione's subtle vanity (probably more of a desire to not be seen with her hair in the state that it was when she woke up) had woken her from a deep sleep. 

Harry knew her routine already, even when they were on the run that hadn't changed. 

With that, he got out of bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so basically, what I've realized is that I'm not good at writing legitimate conflict, and also I would feel too bad putting them through any sort of extra stress. 
> 
> thank you again for reading! I forgot how active the HP community is, something that makes it pretty rewarding to write. 
> 
> like last time: comment if you'd like to, kudos if you'd like to, hate (again, I doubt it lol) can be directed to the trash can. if you have any suggestions, I'm more than open to them.


	3. why the world sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> present day (ish): harry makes a bet with ron, everyone struggles with the post war depression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all!
> 
> this is much shorter than I had intended, but, in the interest of getting another chapter out, here it is. i promise that the next chapter will be all summer-after-book-7.

**[number 12]**

Harry shook his head, feet glued to the spot. It wasn't that he didn't think she'd say yes . . . but he really didn't think she'd say yes. 

The feeling of nervousness that had followed him was suddenly gone. He was lighter than air! He hadn't felt this happy since their last year at Hogwarts. 

His quiet excitement was quickly vocalized when he remembered the bet he'd made with Ron. 

(It seemed a lot weirder than it was.)

He sloppily scribbled out a note to him, simply saying

_you owe me a galleon_

He rolled it up, going out to the back garden where his owl liked to stay some nights, tied it to her leg, instructed her where to go, and it was sent.

Harry was quite elated for the rest of the night, nearly falling asleep when he suddenly remembered that going on a date would require planning. It took him an hour to sleep after that.

* * *

**[a week prior, one week before harry asks her out, two weeks before she tells ginny]**

"NOOOOO!" Ron yelled at the television. 

Dean burst out laughing. "Weren't you poking fun at Muggle sports?"

Ron's hearing became selective in that instant. 

Harry had never been a big party person, never too big on getting groups of people together. That changed when he had his own home. 

He suddenly realized that he'd never been a party person (if one ignores all of their 8th year that remains true) simply because he was surrounded by his friends. Why host a get-together when you share a room with four other boys? 

But adulthood wasn't just scary, it was lonely. He'd never been alone like this--even when they ignored him, the simple presence of the Dursley's made it a little bit better. 

As it happened, along with the conclusion of the Second Wizarding War came a bit of economic recession. He vaguely understood thanks to Hermione that it wasn't how that worked in the Muggle world, but mostly understood that it made it hard to find jobs. Overall, it was fairly confusing: more people dead should equal more job vacancies, right? But since _so many_ people were dead, it instead wiped out entire industries with no one there to teach the new adults. Or, at least, that's what Hermione said. 

What all of this really meant was that his friends struggled to find work--paid work. Ron was likely the best off, helping George with the shop. Then came Hermione, who worked two part time jobs: something to do with the Ministry and something else to do with . . . he wasn't sure. He was spending his time pretty recreationally, notably by practicing Quidditch (and being bombarded with requests from his friends to 'just try out for a pro team'). All of the others struggled more, some like Dean even choosing to take up Muggle jobs in the absence of other work. 

Because of the chaos of the job market, he was really the only one that owned his own house. Hermione was the closest to that, with her own flat, though due to the sheer lack of space inside it made it unsuitable for any more than two or three people. 

"Dean, he'll never confess to that," Harry said.

The gathering currently underway was something of an informal reunion, featuring himself, Ron, Dean, Neville, and Seamus. It was something they did regularly, mostly because of the unemployment status of most of them. 

It was, however, on this occasion, that Ron and Harry made that bet. After that night's football game had drawn to an end, they turned on a movie, something they were laughing too loudly to hear. 

"I think I want to get back together with her, y'know, go out with her again," Ron said. 

Harry chose silence, trying to avoid triggering the beginning of an argument. He and everyone else in the room knew exactly who Ron was asking about.

"D'you think she'd say yes?" Ron asked.

Harry again used a decade of knowledge about Ron to make the smart choice and not respond. 

"Come on!" Ron punched him roughly. Harry thought to himself that it was probably time to cut him off, something that Neville clearly agreed with as he gently pulled the glass bottle from Ron's hand. 

"She'll say yes to Harry before she says yes to you," Dean muttered under his breath. It wasn't very quiet, since everyone heard, Seamus letting out a loud gasp.

Ron sat deeper into the couch, face turning redder. 

"Naw," Dean interrupted again, "Let's make a bet on it." 

"But if she says no to Ron, that's nothing new," Seamus said. Even Neville yelped at that one. 

"Go on then, ask her yourself, Harry, see if she says yes," Dean said. 

Harry had been trying his hardest to stay out of it.

"She says no, you owe Ron a Galleon. She says yes, Ron owes you one."

Harry gave Dean a look, one that prompted Seamus to ask how he could get in on the bet. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'll add a Galleon, for you Harry," Dean said. 

Harry was so uncomfortable, wishing he could Apparate out of the situation. 

"I'll add one on you!" Seamus chimed, pointing to Ron. 

The attention turned to Neville, who shook his furiously, choosing to stay neutral. 

After some jeering (read: peer pressure) that even Ron joined in on, so confident in what Hermione's answer would be a swift 'No.'

He finally gave, conceding that it really didn't matter anyways. 

As he fell asleep, spare bedrooms filled with his friends, he thought to himself that it wasn't that bad. It wasn't like he'd never thought about it. He never would've asked her, but what really was the harm in asking? 

Honestly, it was less the idea of asking her out, and more discomfort with making a bet on it. He shrugged that off quickly, though. He knew Hermione would rather be asked out on a thousand bet dates than get back together with Ron. (He was correct.)

It bears mentioning that the morning after he did finally ask her out was when he realized that Ron had probably instantly written to Hermione upon receiving the letter. Harry did the same, swearing under his breath the entire time. 

_sorry about that, I forgot to tell you. it was technically a bet, but I promise I do actually want to go out with you._

_p.s. it was either me or ron, sorry again._

_p.p.s I'll give you the money I won_

* * *

**[hermione's flat-present]**

Hermione was often right. Almost every single time. There was the odd occasion when she was wrong (her love life being a glaring example), but for the most part she was right. 

She had a good intuition. She was told all the time that she would make an excellent Ravenclaw in her time at Hogwarts. She was consistently top in her classes. She gave great advice, and her track record on that would probably have been better if she'd chosen to befriend more girls. 

That wasn't to say that she didn't have short-comings.

Because she really most certainly did. 

A short-coming of hers clearly wasn't her temper, though, since as she received a letter from Harry's owl later that morning, she only laughed. 

She could practically envision him writing it. In light of that good news, she didn't bother to mentally weigh the fact that it was probably initiated by Ron saying something--the things he said while drunk!--instead letting out a sigh of relief. At least that explained why Ron knew within hours. 

Hermione gazed around her flat, trying to keep to her normal weekend schedule: Saturday was cleaning day. It wasn't particularly messy, it never was. In fact, at its cleanest, Molly had gently called it "stark". She didn't take offense to that, knowing that it really didn't matter what anyone else said about it. 

Quite frankly, it could be described as "stark". But she loved it, everything had a place to be stored and despite its humble size, she had plenty of empty cupboards. 

When she first moved in, she felt bad. It had been completely bankrolled by her parents, who had decided that they couldn't handle having her in their home anymore. Not in a bad way, but after 8 years of being able to live nearly independently, being back with her own parents was only survivable for a year. 

If there was one thing that Hermione could criticize the Wizarding World for was the lack of preparation. She felt that regardless of the economic situation they should at least have some idea of what they should do. It wasn't all their fault, since when she was in school there had been direct routes to jobs. Even Harry, who knew with certainty what he wanted to do since 4th year, quickly had to change his career aspirations: the Auror Department at the Ministry of Magic would only consider applicants with two or more years' job experience. This was a direct result of the great influx of application that came in, many that were so beyond unqualified it was comical. Hermione, who wanted to pursue a career in government was forced to change her mind as well, any departments she was interested in had either been combined with another for 'efficiency', or required so many years of experience that she would've had to start working at age 14. 

Acknowledging that, her parents gladly gave her money each month, enough for her to pay for the flat and food. Their only requirement was that she do _something_. They didn't care what. 

She later found a studying program, one that seemed to closely resemble Muggle university. It was through that program (of which she was in her second year) that she managed to finally discover an entry level Ministry position. 

Said position was a measly 1 day a week commitment, and entailed fascinating things like sorting incoming letters from owls--that was it. She later discovered the reason why it was so little time and such menial work that there were literally spells for it was because of the large numbers of people interested. It was then that she really understood how over the past couple of years, recent graduates were too scared to work for the Ministry, creating a massive influx when it was popularly decided to be safe again. 

She glanced around, unsure of where to begin. Eyes landing on the table, she grabbed her wand and stated a simple cleaning spell aloud. 

Another short -coming actually did revolve completely around her flat. For the first time ever, she had a place that belonged to her(paid for by her parents, though, as Ron helpfully reminded her).

When she had her first house-warming, not knowing the limits of the flat, she invited the entire Weasley family, her own parents, and Harry. It was undignified chaos and by the end of it, her brand-new flat looked a wreck. 

After that, she'd banned all guests but Harry for two months. 

She finished cleaning in fifteen minutes. She was right to say yes to Harry.

* * *

**[number 12, again]**

Harry stood quickly at the sound of the doorbell, unsure of who would have shown up so unexpectedly. 

He peered through the peephole, relieved to see Hermione on the other side. 

"You thought I was gonna say no," she said as he opened the door.

Harry avoided meeting her eyes, cheeks flushed. 

"Harry! I thought you knew me better than that!"

"Hermione the last time it even came up . . . that was months ago," he said sheepishly. 

It was actually three weeks ago. She told him so. 

(The occasion three weeks ago was a subtle mention, an offhand joke that Luna made, something about Harry and Hermione being nearly perfect for one another according to a Quibbler article listing the top signs of compatibility.)

They sat in the front room today, where the black walls had been stripped and re-stained to a light brown wood color. _Formal yet cozy,_ was how Hermione had described it. 

"So, what did he say to you?"

"You're really going on a date with Harry," she told him sarcastically. 

"Sometimes I think he's obsessed with you."

"Sometimes I think he's obsessed with the idea of me." She shook her head. "You remember when we were together . . . I was horrible to him, he was horrible to me . . ."

Harry certainly remembered Ron and Hermione together. The rows that were just annoying when they were friends had gained a new fire behind them once they started dating. It wasn't just trading insults anymore--their intimacy gave each of them fuel, more personal things to expose. He had a vivid recollection of the time that he had to start refusing to be alone with just the two of them, often dragging Ginny along to every occasion in order to add an extra buffer. That didn't really work either. 

Looking back, it was easy to blame it all on Ron, but in reality he was just the one that escalated the fights. There were things that Hermione didn't like and would take personally, a list that Harry was familiar with. Somehow Ron wasn't. From the fact that she hated it when they washed her good dishes with magic, to the way she liked her knitting basket to just not be touched, and even the way she sat when she read and did not want to be disturbed. 

It drove her crazy because she felt like Ron didn't pay any attention to her, Ron was annoyed by the way she snapped when she didn't like what he'd done. 

She was able to pinpoint the instant that she realized it didn't work: one night at the Burrow when Molly had jokingly asked Ron when he was going to move in with her. In the moment, she forced a laugh out, but all she felt inside was white hot dread. 

Harry and Hermione were both silent now, thinking of all the reasons why she and Ron didn't work. 

"Well, thank you."

"For asking you out on a bet?" he joked. 

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I'm thanking you for."

With that, she DisApparated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, I apologize for the lack of length, but I figure frequency is important, so I'm gonna try to keep that going. 
> 
> anywho thanks again for reading, lmk if u have any suggestions!


	4. in which nothing is settled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> back in '98, harry and hermione stay at hogwarts, hermione and ginny have a conversation, and hermione prepares to move into her new flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing really happens in this chapter, but enjoy ! quick note, though, that I've started noting the year, just because I think it may make it clearer for you all.

**[at hogwarts, early july, after the battle, 1998]**

"When did you wake up?" Harry asked as he walked into the sitting room.

It took her a moment to respond, sitting on the windowsill, nose deep in a book. "An hour ago, maybe two."

Harry nodded, checking his watch. It was something Ron had gotten him for a birthday, showing Harry the time in his own handwriting, as well as anything else he might've forgotten to do. _Go back to sleep_ , it read now, displaying the time as half past 5 in the morning. His brow furrowed. 

"Did you even sleep last night?" he asked her. 

"Did you?"

He hadn't. Neither had she. 

His eyes flitted around the room. "What do you think this is for?"

"I've been trying to figure that out myself. As far as I can tell, it's intended for guests. We'll have to stop by the library today, I wonder how many places like this there are throughout the castle . . ."

Harry nodded in agreement, shifting his weight to see outside. Hermione's head swiveled to follow his gaze. 

"I bet it's nice outside," she stood and shut her book. 

They tied their shoes quickly, then wondered out of the room, noticing that they really did not know where in the castle they were. 

"Let's go left," Harry suggested as he started walking. Without any better ideas, Hermione followed. 

"It's strange, isn't it?" Hermione said. 

"What's that?"

She shrugged, "If Ron doesn't decide to come back to Hogwarts we won't see him pretty much all year."

He wished he had a better response than the, "Yeah," that he gave her. "It'll be okay, though. I hope he comes back, obviously, but we've done okay without him before." 

He was referring to the time that Ron had skipped out on them. Despite a few apologies, they both secretly felt that it was something that would take longer than a couple months to get over. 

"If he chooses not to, what can he even do?" She continued on, not letting Harry respond, "He keeps saying that he wants to work with George for a while at the shop, but what if something happens to it? He doesn't know anything about running a shop. To make matters worse, George didn't take his NEWTs either, which is alright, I suppose-"

Harry could tell that she personally did not feel that it was alright.

"-but for the both of them to have no NEWTs and no idea how do things like book-keeping, I just don't see how that's a good idea."

"Well, I know that two years ago, our sixth year, George and . . ." he trailed off. "They had done a lot of research, the year prior and had even gone around to all of the major shops in Diagon Ally, asking for tips and advice. I don't think Ron has done anything like that, or even if he's asked George if he needs enough help for him to work full-time- they've got loads of employees, after all."

"I mean, I know neither of you loved it, but at least you're coming back," Hermione said, shaking her head. 

"It wasn't that bad. Maybe just the long essays and Potions class . . . and probably Divination, History of Magic . . ."

She hit his arm. 

"And anyways, I think I'll pay better attention this year. After first year it got kind of hard to pay attention in class while knowing that one of the most powerful wizards alive was coming to kill me." He was quiet for a minute, "Honestly, the summer after 4th year I didn't even think I'd live to turn 18." 

Hermione hugged him then, throwing her arms around him as tears threatened to spill out of her eyes. He hugged her back, for a moment, before suddenly catching sight of one of the portraits. 

"Hey! Wait!" he jogged to keep up with the figure as it disappeared in the frame. It popped its head back, Harry groaned. 

"Sir Cadogan, at your service!" The knight gave a sloppy salute. 

Hermione caught up, groaning too when she saw their source of help. She covered it quickly, though, giving what she hoped would be a genuine smile. 

"Sir Cadogan," she began. "We seem to be lost. Can you help us get back to the . . ." she looked at Harry, who shrugged, "back to the Gryffindor dormitory?"

"I figure if we ask him to take us back there then we'll know how to find our way to the other places we want-" she stopped whispering to Harry suddenly, the painting was already empty. 

They exchanged a quick glance before sprinting off, often confused about directions due to entire hallways being devoid of paintings. A few minutes later, breathing hard, he'd led them, a few portraits before that of the Fat Lady. After a wheezy _thank you_ from each of them, he disappeared. 

"She's not there anymore!" Hermione said, pointing at the empty wall where the Fat Lady had hung. In its place sat a large notice, stating,

_Gryffindor Common-room is currently undergoing transformations. Please return at a later date and time._

She read it aloud slowly. "What do you think that means?"

"I dunno . . . I wonder if the other common-rooms are shut down as well," he said. 

"I don't think there was even much fighting in there, though I suppose we never did go back once the battle ended."

Harry thought back, at the time he felt pretty aware of a lot the things going on in the castle during the battle, but he belatedly realized that there were likely countless things he'd missed. 

They were quiet now, moving on autopilot to the back hallway. The first thing they'd done when they sat down with McGonagall the night before was to ask if Hagrid was home, disappointed when she shook her head.

"Let's go anyways, see what he's growing," Harry said. She didn't respond, just followed him as he ambled down the rocky pathway.

He pushed his glasses up on his nose, squatting down to look at the tangles of vines on the ground. Next to him, Hermione dropped to her knees. 

"What is this?" she asked.

"Erm . . ." Harry poked them with his wand, "pumpkins, maybe?"

She gave him a look, "Do you even know what pumpkins look like?" 

He shook his head, standing up again. "Neville would know." 

"Is he coming back? Have you spoken to him?"

He paused. "No, I supposed I didn't even think to ask anyone else, other than you and Ron, of course." 

"Oh, Harry. I didn't either . . . I've been so caught up in the stress of making sure that everything will be alright for us to return, I didn't even think to ask how many students would _want_ to come back." She pulled a notebook and quill from inside of her robes and scribbled something down. 

They'd wandered close to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, quiet for a moment, simply listening to the rustling of the leaves, the soft thumps of what Harry thought were squirrels. He turned sharply to follow a small group of ghosts drift across a courtyard in the distance. 

"So what do we do, then? Just write to each of our classmates until they tell us yeah or no?" He kicked absentmindedly at a branch by his foot.

"I was thinking that we could just ask Professor McGonagall to send out letters," Hermione said. 

Harry took a deep breath, there was a sudden pang in the pit of his stomach. "What about them? The ones in our year that helped the Death Eaters?" 

She looked pale, "I've been thinking about that. Surely she won't let them return to Hogwarts."

Harry hoped so. 

"If no one else comes back, then what?" Harry asked. 

"Let's think it through. Surely the Ravenclaws will, I bet the Hufflepuffs will, too. Neville might, and I know if Dean comes back, Seamus will, too. Padma's a Ravenclaw and I certainly can't imagine her parents not making Parvati return as well. I've not heard from Lavender, but I know she would return for Parvati's sake. There's no way we'll be the only ones." 

Harry nodded. He moving automatically now, feet taking him to the Quidditch pitch, not remember the destruction it suffered months earlier.

Hermione did, and was pleasantly surprised to see it exactly how it was before. 

Before they could get any closer, the quiet of the early morning was interrupted by the rumbling of their stomachs. 

"Early breakfast, then?" Hermione proposed.

He looked disappointed for a moment, then seemed to remember that they could simply come back later. He nodded in agreement. 

As they made their way back through the castle, the eerie silence was just as uncomfortable. Harry kept expecting to see a rush of students in Hogwarts robes and multi-colored house jumpers. 

They made their way up the final set of stairs to the Great Hall. When they finally reached its double doors, Harry went first, pushing one door open with both hands. Hermione did the same. 

The same table from the night before sat in its place. This time when Harry glanced up at the ceiling, he was pleasantly surprised to see it back to its normal state, displaying clouds with bits of sunlight peeking through. 

They each slid onto their respective benches, needing to wait only a few seconds until the food appeared the table before them. 

"I wonder what the elves are up to," Hermione said, badly imitating nonchalance. 

Harry shrugged as he poured a glass of orange juice. "Dunno, never really thought about it."

"Never thought about it? Harry!"

He just gave her a look, "Pardon me, Hermione, but for the past few summers I've a had a fair bit going on."

"Oh, yes." She looked apologetic, "I suppose that's true. Can we visit them afterwards?" 

Harry nodded. He couldn't have said no if he wanted to, plus it wasn't as though they had anything else to do until the late afternoon, when McGonagall had set their meeting. 

They ate slower than the night before and they savored each bite. They'd not adjusted to the quiet, but at least it wasn't as horrible as it was before. 

Hermione pulled something else out of her robes, this time a roll of parchment. She held it up and it unfurled, dropping (to Harry's amusement) onto the table, over its edge, where more sat unrolled on the floor. He leaned over as he tried to read what'd she'd written upside down. 

She pulled out a quill, scribbling something in a bit of empty space. 

"Hermione, what is that?"

"A todo list. I've sorted it by day. Today we must write a letter to Ron, so that he knows that he's missing out."

Harry counted on his fingers, "visit the elves, write to Ron, speak to McGonagall. Is that it?"

"You've forgotten the library," she told him as she stood. "Let's go to the kitchens first."

They walked down the stairs, Hermione squealing with excitement at the sight of the elves. They didn't spend long down there, heading off to the owlery to send a hastily written letter to Ron. 

_We do hope you'll decide to return with us. -Much love, Hermione_

_It'll be loads of fun, it isn't the same without you. -Harry_

Harry rolled it up, tying it the leg of the first owl that came up to them. It wasn't very large, no more than 25 centimeters tall. 

"How adorable!" Hermione said, using two finger to stroke its small chest. "It's a Boreal owl, they're native to America, I think."

They watched it fly off. He checked his watch, seeing _Good breakfast?_ which was followed by the time, nearly 8. "The library, then?"

She turned, smiling. This walk was short, too, and they reached the library in a few minutes. 

After picking a table, Harry dropped down, watching as Hermione collected an armful of books. 

"Have you given any more thought to what you'll do after Hogwarts?" she asked as she sat down next to him. 

"An Auror still seems brilliant, but I don't know anymore."

"You'd be quite good at it, Harry."

He made intense eye contact with the table top, "Thanks. Have you?"

"Well," Hermione said in a voice that made it clear she'd been wanting to talk about it, "I do think that working for the Ministry would be a nice career, though I do love research ever so much. Maybe traveling, too. When we went to Australia, that was quite fun."

Harry agreed. They'd gone to Australia earlier in the summer, half way through June, once Hermione had determined it safe. 

The trip was quick, just the two of them, right in the week after Hermione had broken up with Ron. It was painfully awkward between them, and she couldn't stomach asking him to go as well. 

They DisApparated from Hermione's house, landing on a mundane looking street. Harry had looked around, seeing homes that may as well have been identical. 

They moved fast after that, verifying the house number, taking down charms and enchantments, unlocking the door, and restoring her parents' memories. They each took one, Side Along Apparating back to their England home. Harry didn't stay long after, slipping out as her parents gained their bearings. 

"Are they still cross with you?" Harry asked. He took a book off of the stack and flipped through the diagrams of the castle. 

"No, they understood why I did it. They were more angry that I didn't tell them what was going on." She continued at his confused expression. "After 5th year, I stopped telling them as much. I realized that it would just make them stressed. Honestly, after I told them what happened to you in 4th year they nearly moved us all to France.

"I was able to convince them, though, once 5th year ended I didn't think it would be wise to continue. If they'd been wanting to move earlier, we would've gotten on a plane without a second thought." 

Harry just nodded, silently thanking her. 

"I do want to clear something up, though. I know earlier it sounded as though I'm cross with Ron. And I am. But I do want him to finish with us. You were right when you said that it isn't the same without him." 

"I know, I didn't think anything different."

She put her head down after that, underlining passages with her finger. Harry looked at the diagram on his page, furrowing his brow. 

"Can't we just ask the professor about this?" He asked, pushing it away from him. 

"I suppose, but where's the fun in that?"

Harry didn't think it was very fun. "Hermione, we don't even know where were in the castle. I brought the map along, could that help?"

She looked excited for a moment, before falling back into her seat. "I doubt it. When Ron and I were in the Chamber, you said you couldn't see us."

"Why would something as simple as a sitting room and bedrooms be hidden?"

"Maybe they have different uses, like the Room of Requirement does," she offered. 

"Does it even matter?" Harry asked. "I'm sure there are plenty of things we've never seen here."

"Of course it doesn't matter. We're here for a week, Harry. We've one meeting with Professor McGonagall a day. What else is there to do?"

He considered that, and once he failed to come up with any suggestions, grabbed the book and continued to study it. 

* * *

"Thank you again for meeting with us, Professor," Hermione said.

They were sitting where they had the night prior, but this time the afternoon sunlight had faded to a dull gray. It was accompanied with a strong wind, one that swept in and pounded the windows with rain. 

McGonagall produced the same platter as before, but this time with tiny plates, a spread of biscuits, and a dish of sweets.

"I presume you've brought a list."

Hermione nodded, rummaging through the pockets on the inside of her robe. She pulled another scroll, similar, Harry thought, to the one from breakfast. It was shorter, though still nearly reached the floor when unrolled. 

"The Gryffindor common room?" Hermione asked. 

"I'd wondered if you two had made your way over there. Before you ask, all of the common rooms are the same. In the chaos of the past couple of years--three headmaster in such a short period!--many of the enchantments, like the ones in the Great Hall, have fallen. It's no cause for concern, simply something that had fallen by the wayside in the effort against," she let out a shuddering breath, "Lord Voldemort."

Hermione understood at once, realizing that they weren't the only ones that the war had taken a toll on. For her to see students of all ages, most of whom she'd known since childhood, perish at the hands of evil, must've been horrific. And now, rather than mourning, she had to move on, work on making sure the school was safe, that the staff was okay . . . she felt an intense rush of gratitude towards her. 

"What do you mean when you say 'the enchantments had fallen'?" Harry asked, unaware of the feelings of Hermione, sitting next to him. 

"Like anything, Mr Potter, even the best magic often requires maintenance. And I cannot blame the late Professor Dumbledore for neglecting to do so."

They kept on after that, falling into a comfortable pattern: Hermione asking a question, an answer given, Harry asking a follow-up, and an answer was also given to that. 

When they left the study again that night, McGonagall promising that they'd be able to return to the Gryffindor Dormitory by the next night. 

Followed the same magical path as before, Hermione writing down each turn they took. 

"We didn't ask about the room," Harry noted.

"I know. I was serious before. I want to find something out for myself."

He understood, kind of. Hermione tended to be goal driven and in the absence of things like classes and work to do, she had to come up with something of her own. 

* * *

**[present day, 2002]**

Hermione opened the door, allowing Ginny to enter her apartment. 

"You're not cross with me, I hope," Hermione said as they sat at the table. 

"No. And I wasn't cross before. I was just surprised." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "And, anyways, Ron told me that he only asked you because of a silly bet they made." 

Since that was technically true, Hermione simply nodded in agreement. 

"I baked last night," she summoned a plate from the kitchen (which was about three steps away from where they sat). "It's not as good as Harry, and certainly not as good as your mum, but they're not too bad, I think." 

Ginny tried one, laughing as the younger of Hermione's cats made a mad dash for the plate and was soundly rebuffed by the spell that surrounded them. 

"Now that you know it was a bet, you don't need to go," Ginny said, taking a sip out of one of the glasses that Hermione summoned. 

Hermione shrugged. "What's the harm in it?"

"You two won't even have anything to talk about for so long, will you?" Ginny grabbed another cookie. 

"Well, Ginny, we've been best friends for a decade, I'm sure we'll figure something out." She was slightly annoyed by the questioning, sensing a strange attitude behind the questioning, and decided to change topics. 

* * *

**[the burrow, 2000]**

"Hermione, dear, you're moving into your new flat in two days, right?" Molly asked as she let the serving plate float back into the center of the table. 

"Yes, I do. I'm quite excited," Hermione said. She was excited. It was a small flat, though more than what she'd asked for. She'd been fine with a studio, though her parents insisted that having at least one bedroom would make it easier to have guests over, something she would surely want. 

"Will you need any help?" Ginny asked. 

"Sure, if you'd like," Hermione responded. In truth, she didn't need anyone's help at all, what with the help of her magic. As it stood, she'd already gotten the help of her parents, Ron and Harry, and Luna since she said she was free that day. 

"How many's that, now?" Ron whispered. 

"Six. But it's fine, it'll be fun."

"Wee bit crowded, though?"

"Yeah, probably," she gave him a soft smile. He did have a point. 

When they'd gone furniture shopping a week or so earlier, once Hermione had picked the flat she wanted, she found that she needed help past what Ron could provide. She tried not to hold it against him, but it was hard to buy a sofa when he only cared about which one was most comfortable. Harry wasn't much better, since he didn't really care about the whole affair. Thankfully, she went back with Ginny, who invited Parvati, and helped her to find the perfect one. 

She must've looked lost in thought, since Ron nudged her, "you look a bit mental, know that?"

Hermione laughed quietly, "Just thinking." She glanced over at Harry, sitting next to Ginny. He was fast asleep. 

Ron chucked a pea at him, looking pointedly at his plate as Harry sat straight up. 

George, never to be left out of the action, dipped a napkin into his glass, quietly enchanting it to hit Ron in the forehead repeatedly.

"Boys," Molly said sternly, "That's quite enough. Honestly, the both of you, behaving like children . . ."

Hermione stopped paying attention again, the conversation fading into the background.

She was thinking about her apartment again. Was she really ready to live on her own? Technically, yes, she was more than capable of it, and probably had been since she was 13. Emotionally, though? That she wasn't sure of. 

When Harry spoke about how it was to be Number 12 alone, it seemed downright miserable. At least she had two cats, with them, she'd never really be alone. 

Plus, Number 12 wasn't really near any other wizarding communities, something that had drawn Hermione to her own place. She really felt lucky to find a place in one of the many secret floors of the London flat community. Her floor was to be filled with many other wizards and witches, something she was sure would keep from getting too lonely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter, I think it's 8th year time.


	5. the way there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds company, everyone rides to Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, had a lot to do over the past couple of days

**[harry, mid july 1998]**

The weeks between his and Hermione's Hogwarts visit and the start of their final term were the loneliest of his life. 

Consumed with a simultaneous desire to see people and a fear that him sending excessive communication with people would cause annoyance, took on a policy of responding only to letters. 

He knew it was irrational, but the ease of isolation quickly made him nervous to interact with people. This was made much worse by his living in Number 12, somewhere that despite a summer of previous effort was still almost as dark and miserable as before. 

The portraits, the various dark objects, the black paint that seemed to cover every surface, the heavy curtains that seemed to be charmed as to not allow light in for more than a few minutes, and the stony silence that filled the air with the exception of Kreacher's footsteps. 

It was a horrid place to live, something he'd recognized when he'd spent weeks there before, but hadn't fully appreciated because of the presence of the entire Weasley family, countless other Order members, and of course, Hermione. Additionally, two days into his first stay alone (he finally felt that he was invaded the Weasley's and Hermione's space and had overstayed his welcome) he suddenly remembered that all of the previous inhabitants of the house had died. He woke from his bed with a start, nauseated by the idea of sleeping in a dead person's bed, and slept on the floor. 

Of the few people that he kept normal correspondence with, Hermione offered the best advice:

_Harry,_

_I think it may help if you get another pet. I'm sure you miss Hedwig, but I can't imagine her wanting you to be lonely._

_With love,_

_Hermione_

_p.s. will you give this package to Kreacher?_

Said package was a collection of sweets and various other food items, along with a rather long heartfelt letter she'd written. 

He thought about her suggestion, though. He missed Hedwig terribly, but he supposed she was right. Him being miserable and alone wasn't going to make her come back. 

_I'm getting a pet. What should I get?_

_-Harry_

He copied this down three times, sending it to Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. Two days later and three votes heavier, he met Ginny at Diagon Alley to buy a new owl. They had an early lunch, followed by ice cream, then made their way to the pet shop. 

Harry was nervous about the outing, since it was the first real time he'd been in public since defeating Voldemort. He found it awkward, the way wizards and witches had taken to bursting into tears when he shook their hands, how they asked for his signature with wavering voices, and the looks of reverence that they wore the whole time. It made lunch take roughly double the usual amount of time, though he was happy to see that at least Ginny liked the attention.

When they reached the pet shop, Hermione was there, never to miss out on an experience to be around animals. The three of them agreed on an owl quickly and Harry was nearly ready to check out when Hermione called him over. He followed her voice, prepared to tell her that she didn't need to point out _every_ animal in the place, but the words died when he saw what she was staring at. 

It was a small cat--tiny and black. 

"It's got your eyes, don't you think?" Ginny said, having come up behind them. 

The cat did have green eyes. Harry studied the cat, who looked back at him with a mix of curiosity and disinterest. His eyes flitted over to the tag on its cage, that warned that this creature was well known for a lack of friendliness and certainly wasn't sweet. 

He glanced between Hermione and Ginny, both of whom gave eager nods. What did he have to lose, he thought. 

"Excuse me," he said to the shopkeeper, "I'll take the cat, too." 

So, clutching a cat cage in his arms, the owl in Ginny's arms, and Hermione's hand on her arm, they DisApparated. They all Apparated into his front parlor. Ginny slightly off-kilter from the Side-Along Apparation, she sat for a moment. 

Despite the fact that it was an expectation for 6th Years to learn, the . . . events of the past year, along with the evil school management, had meant that Ginny hadn't learned. In fact, aside from the Slytherins, none of the students were taught to Apparate--it was claimed they weren't doing well enough in class. That wasn't true, and the professors' bias were demonstrated clearly enough by the high marks that Crabbe and Goyle received. 

Harry put down the cat and knelt in front of it. He'd never had a cat before, or any pet other than an owl, and therefore had absolutely no clue what he would do with it. 

"Let him out," urged Ginny, watching curiously. 

"Alright," he nodded, studying the creature for a moment, before fumbling with the latch, and letting it stride out. 

It stretched, then stood, tail towards the ceiling. It looked around the room, then darted off to a corner to start sniffing everything. 

"What will you name him, Harry?" Hermione asked, dropping next to Ginny on the sofa. 

"I didn't even know I was going to have a cat until a half hour ago." 

"What about the owl?" she asked. 

Harry poked a finger into the owl's cage, allowing her to nibble his finger. She was a spotted wood owl, and practically microscopic compared to Hedwig. Big dark eyes, brown face, and white marks down the front, Hermione and Ginny thought she was precious. 

"You named Hedwig from _a History of Hogwarts_ . . . so how about Augurey? It's a type of phoenix, technically," Hermione trailed off.

He nodded eagerly and Ginny did the same. 

"Augurey for her, and how about," Ginny paused to think, "If we're going with books, why not Newt? After Newt Scamander?" 

"Yeah, I quite like that, too." 

They left a few hours later, after eating an early dinner together, and each taking turns trying to coax Newt down from the shelf he was hiding on, they Apparated away, Hermione to drop Ginny off at the Burrow. 

Once they left, despite the silence that took over again, the presence of the owl that sat in the kitchen, and the cat that quietly existed

It was nicer than he thought it would be, and now, regardless of whether he had guests over, he didn't feel quite so alone. 

He sat in the front room for a while, flipping through a magazine and occasionally watching the Muggles pass by on the street, under the glow of the nearly-dark evening and the lamp-posts. It was so strange, all that had happened in the past few years, and for the most part, they had no idea. 

Harry felt something against his foot, looking quickly down at the floor. After making a quick circle, Newt curled up, warmth coming through his socks. 

They had a bit of fun together, Harry teaching him tricks, sleeping together, and Newt observing as he tried again and again to unstick portraits. 

He did find out that Newt simply didn't like other people, choosing to limit his involvement with company to the tops of bookshelves, cabinets, or whatever surface was furthest from guests. That disappointed Ginny, who still committed multiple hours each visit trying to do anything more than pet him with a couple fingers. 

Ron thought it was funny, that Harry had been strong armed into getting the most antisocial cat in existence. Newt eyed him reproachfully at the words, something even Ron could see. 

Of everyone, Hermione was the only one that Harry's cat was willing to come down for. It was a far cry from sitting on her lap, but him laying on the sofa next to her was enough to make her squeal with excitement. 

Hermione thought it was lovely, Harry had clearly found a good friend in the cat, and appreciated that he wouldn’t be quite so lonely. She did research too, looking into Permanent Sticking Charms and the best ways to remove the various items in the house, though mostly turned out unsuccessful. She came over often, coming over with Ginny or with Ginny and Ron, but never just with Ron. The awkwardness of their break up faded, but she could tell how odd it made Harry feel since he could feel the forced cheerfulness that rolled off of Ron. Ginny provided enough buffer for them to be able to avoid direct interaction, especially since Harry practically vetoed any PDA in front of her brother. 

The weeks passed quickly after that, the most notable occasion being a gathering at the Burrow, the prior mentioned occasion upon which Ron was told he was going back to Hogwarts. 

"Have you made up your mind, Ron?" Harry asked as he looked up at him. 

"Erm . . ." Ron started to say. 

"Made your mind up about what?" Mrs Weasley cut in from across the table. Ron sank into his seat, looking, Harry thought, as though he was trying to disappear. 

"Ron says he doesn't know if he wants to return to Hogwarts," Ginny told her, inviting a grin from Harry and a glare from her brother. 

"Doesn't know if wants to . . . Ronald Weasley!"

He sank lower in his seat as Ginny and Harry laughed. 

"Ronald Weasley, you completing school isn't even up for debate! What were you even planning on doing?" She didn't let him say anything. "I cannot believe you! All that your father and I have done for you . . . what, were you just planning on staying here forever?"

"Well, no--" Ron started again.

"Truly! I'm almost disappointed with you, you were a prefect in your fifth and sixth year, and now you don't even want to go back? We fought a war so that we could all live our lives and you simply weren't planning on finishing school?"

She kept on him, ranting for nearly an hour, until Ron was red in the face and hers was redder. 

Harry and Ginny got sick of it after a bit, she chose to doodle on some spare paper while Harry wrote an update letter to Hermione. 

_Found out today that Mrs Weasley didn't know Ron didn't want to return to Hogwarts. He'll be coming with us._

_-Harry_

He asked for Pigwidgeon and she pointed him in the proper direction, whispering to avoid catching the attention of her still shouting mother. 

For the most part, that was that. 

* * *

**[1 september 1998]**

They'd taken a car, one that Arthur had fixed up (with relatively few enchantments), and squeezed the four of them into the back, Mr and Mrs Weasley up front. 

Harry and Ron entered the platform together, like always, right behind Hermione and Ginny. They glanced around, none of them expecting it to look so _normal_. But Harry kept looking, something feeling off.

There was a forced cheerfulness in the air, the way parents told their children to have fun just a bit too brightly, and their hugs a few seconds too long. It was unsettling, to say the least. Hermione had asked her parents not to come that day, and since Harry's remaining familial connections were down to zero, they both came with the Weasleys.

Molly kissed them each and hugged them tightly, Arthur hugged them too, whispering to all to have a good year. 

"Hello!" Luna said. "Did you all arrive together?" She had a bright smile on her face as she approached. 

"Yeah, we did." Harry looked nervously over her shoulder to her dad, "Is he doing any better now?"

"Yes, thank you for asking. I hope you got the letters he sent," she looked between Harry, Hermione, and Ron. 

"We did. Tell him not to worry about it, there's no use worrying about the past," Hermione told her, wrapping her into a hug. 

"Two minutes!" Mrs Weasley interjected, shouting from a meter or two away. "Go on, go on!" She ushered them onto the train. 

They climbed up the stairs, one by one. It was crowded, first-years looking anxiously in every direction as all of the older students went in every direction, trying to either find their friends, or an empty cabin. 

"Alright, left, let's go left," Harry said, leading the way down the train until the crowds thinned out. 

Hermione levitated the trunks into place, pausing to carefully deposit Crookshanks on the bench. Harry passed Newt to her and she did the same while he shoved Augurey next to his trunk. She dropped onto Harry's left-side, nearest to the window. Ginny sat on his other side after she put Pigwidgeon next to his owl.

Ron and Luna sat across from them, with an empty seat next to the door that was filled by Neville within a couple of minutes. Small talk was had, the usual _how was your summer?_ and _how's your family?_ It was

When everyone had loaded onto the train, trunks heavy, cages filled with animals, Harry and Hermione knew in an instant that however bad their previous ride had been, this would be much worse.

He was fidgeting a bit, eyeing Newt as he found a nook next to someone's trunk to hide. 

"I hope he won't be miserable for the year," he told Hermione as everyone continued to get settled. 

"He and Crookshanks get on well enough, he'll manage," she responded, appreciating having something to talk about. 

The entire group of them made small talk, unable to have conversations about anything that really mattered. 

It wasn't as though anything significant had happened. Other than Harry being a constant victim to journalists hoping to speak with him and photograph him, they really didn't know anything about the state of the Wizarding World. Even Hermione simply didn't have it in her to stay up with each update as she had at first. She felt the quiet was welcome, and appreciated that the arrest of the remaining Death Eaters and other supporters of Voldemort never made it onto the front page of any copy of the Daily Prophet. It wasn't what they'd expected, but everyone was alright with the positive feeling that even the Ministry was pushing, even a desperate attempt at normalcy was better than how the last year had been.

So, for the third time that summer, Harry and Hermione rode the train to Hogwarts, nerves somehow even higher than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so . . . I think I'm going to edit the story summary to better reflect the focus, which I think is all over the place, but I want to do a lot of their 8th year . . . anyways, thanks for reading!


	6. 1998- start of term

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all of the students return to hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, guys. I want to say that this chapter is filler, but since all of the story is basically just day-in-the-life, it's all filler lmao . . . I spent so long trying to figure out the plan for the new professors, like how many were needed, what to name them idk.

**[july 1998]**

Hermione's summer was nearly as boring as Harry's. She didn't have the excitement of a teenage relationship (which she was thankful for), or any new pets, but her life was what she considered to be a good type of quiet. 

She was with her parents again, and getting to see them again was wonderful. The novelty wore off after the first couple of weeks, though, once all of her stories had been shared and they'd given the appropriate gasps and cried at the proper places. 

It was soon just living with her parents, like she reverted to her summer-before-fourth-year-self: carefree and treated like a child. They checked twice a day that she had brushed properly, reprimanded her when they thought she needed to eat more carbs, and did all that they'd done before she'd given them new personalities then reversed that to restore them. 

Her mum and dad were upset with her at first, likely guilty that she spent a year putting her life at risk in various ways and even being tortured, all while they sat unaware an ocean away from her. That faded quickly, as they, too, sank blissfully into the mundanity of what had been their normal life. 

Aside from her visits to Number 12 and the Burrow, she mostly stayed at home, realizing upon her first trip to the nearest Wizarding Library that she knew exactly how Viktor Krum felt when he was followed by fangirls. She ordered books by owl after that. 

The only real responsibility that Hermione possessed that summer was her commitment to helping out Professor McGonagall with hiring. The new Headmaster of Hogwarts was more than capable of doing this on her own, but she chose to involve students, Hermione, an actual 7th year Hufflepuff, and three Ravenclaws. 

Since she had initially been given long lists of applications, she decided to pick out those she felt had the most promise for Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. She was also responsible for a massive overhaul of the curriculum, something that included the need for at least two professors for each subject, including Transfiguration, Charms, and so on. So, again, while she was more than capable of doing it on her own, delegating the work to gain additional opinions from certain students. The decision eventually made would be up to her and the other veteran teachers, but she decided that having input from students could help them to consider different perspectives.

It that deeply pleased Hermione, who was more than willing to spend hours pouring over resumes and potential teaching plans. _This_ was the research project that she so desired, and the two weeks she was given before McGonagall wanted her responses were filled with owls constantly sent back and forth, always weighed down with books she ordered. 

Therefore, when she finally received notification from the headmaster, she literally shrieked with joy. The letter disclosed (once it had been freed from the school owl's leg) the list of new teachers and their positions, and also a brief explanation of the new mandatory classes. This included at least three years of Muggle Studies, and two years of Arithmancy or Ancient Runes. Hermione swelled with satisfaction at the addition of a mandatory Muggle Studies course, something she'd strongly advocated in favor of. She flipped back to the list of new faculty. It read,

_In light of recent events and numerous losses in terms of faculty and professors, I, Headmaster Minerva McGonagall, along with other professors, have made the challenging decision to hire additional staff. Those professors that we have lost or have been taken from us due to the tragic events of the past couple of years will be fondly remembered and are thanked for their service to our students. Their portraits will be hung throughout the castle, at locations that will be announced during our first breakfast together._

_Take care to remember that the addition of new professors does not imply or necessitate the exclusion of the older ones, it simply represents the minor changes that Hogwarts is currently undergoing. All new staff are to be treated at every instance with the utmost respect, and to be treated no differently from any other staff member._

_What follows is the list of new staff members and their areas of knowledge:_

_Professor Oakley Khan - Potions_

_Professor Quinn Watts - Transfiguration_

_Professor Sidney Eli - Charms_

_Professor Darcie Yates - Defense Against the Dark Arts_

_Professor Ellison Knight - Defense Against the Dark Arts_

_Professor Noel Nicholson - Arithmancy_

_Professor Valadin Veardley - Muggle Studies_

_Professor Florence Cooke - Muggle Studies_

_Professor Lydia Lawrence - Other_

_Coby Zain - Caretaker_

Once she looked through this as well, happy to see two of the people for whom she'd strongly advocated, she found one more piece of parchment in the envelope.

_Miss Granger,_

_I'd like to thank you personally for all that you have done to help prepare for the coming term. Your input has been invaluable. The letter that you have likely read prior to this one will be sent out to all current and starting students in two days time._

_Again, thank you very much, and if you ever need anything, please do not hesitate to ask._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall, Headmaster of Hogwarts_

At those words, Hermione felt lighter than air, happy, refreshed. Her input, _'invaluable'_? She didn't hesitate to read the letter aloud to her parents.

* * *

**[august 1998]**

About two weeks before the start of term, she received a letter, one she thought might from Hogwarts until she realized it was an unfamiliar owl, it knocked politely on her bedroom window until she opened it. 

_Hi!_

_I know we haven't spoken all summer, but if you'd like, I have someone I quite think you'd like to see. If you're available tomorrow around lunch, just send back an owl and come to this address:_

-an address was scribbled down there-

_-Parvati_

_p.s. I do hope you come_

Her brow furrowed. When had she last spoken to Parvati? Who did she think she'd like to see? She waved it off, writing out a neat _yes, I'll be there tomorrow, 12 pm_ and sending it off with the owl that had arrive with the first letter.

It stuck with her--the curiosity--to the point where she had even laid awake all night long, tossing and turning, much to Crookshanks's annoyance. Morning couldn't have come fast enough and the few hours between her rising and the time she was to arrive seemed to stretch ahead of her like afternoon shadows. 

Finally, the time came. She glanced at the address again, told her parents she'd return, and DisApparated. 

When she arrived at the given address, she was completely unfamiliar with her surroundings. Hermione reached into a pocket in her robes, pulling out an enchanted world map. According to it, she was somewhere in France. She folded it back and glanced back up at the house in front of her. It was beautiful, tall, made of a cream colored stone of some sort with the prettiest landscaping surrounding it. She approached the front door slowly, looking cautiously about the area. 

Her fingers curled into a tight fist and she knocked on the door with two sharp taps. Nothing happened for about a minute, her arm raising again so that she could knock, when the door was yanked open. 

"Hi!" Parvati squealed. "It's wonderful to see you again!" She grabbed Hermione's wrist, pulling her inside then wrapping her in a hug. "Padma's not here right now, but she told me to tell you hi. Anyways, I'm sure you're rather confused about why I've asked you here. I thought about it really hard, I wasn't sure if I should tell you. But, I spoke to her-" Parvati covered her mouth suddenly. "No point in waiting, I'll just show you!"

Hermione was more confused than before. She looked around the house as she followed Parvati--it was gorgeous. Nice furniture in every room, paintings that looked priceless on every wall, super dark wood floors . . . she thought it was wonderful. But why was it so nice? Whose house was this? Who was she being taken to?

After a walk up two flights of stairs, Parvati stopped in front of two double doors. 

"Alright, I don't mean to alarm you, she's rather sensitive right now," she whispered to Hermione, who was still beyond confused. "It's quite bad still, the scarring I mean. They said it's supposed to heal with time, and it does look better, but it is very noticeable as well. You're not usually mean," she paused for a half second too long after that, "and you're quite sympathetic, so I'm sure there's nothing to worry about." With that, she gently turned the handle of the left door. It opened inwards, and she allowed Hermione to enter first. As it opened, Hermione temporarily forgot the mystery at hand, frozen at the breathtaking view out of the massive windows of the top most floor of the house. There were endless rolling hills, deep green, the sun shone brightly onto them, causing them to practically glow. And, way off in the distance, sat mountains, picture perfect and topped with the tiniest amount of snow. 

Parvati grabbed her shoulders, redirecting her attention to small sofa to her left, upon which sat a girl. 

Hermione tilted her head, surprised at the familiar brown waves and the loud headband, covered in purple flowers.

"Lavender?" Hermione said aloud, at a loss for any other words. 

Lavender looked up, a soft smile on her face, but the smile was interrupted by three angry slashes across her face, creating a gash on the right side of each of her lips. Hermione didn't hesitate, though, and barely even blinked before she rushed across the room, hugging her as tightly as she could. 

A few minutes later, after some tears had been shed, Lavender explained, "I know we were never super close when we were at school, especially not our last year, but I felt bad keeping it from everyone. You were so nice to everybody, and I just . . ."

"You're only the third one from school she's told," Parvati explained, having summoned a chair to be able to sit across from them.

With tears in all of their eyes, they gave updates, telling the story of what had transpired in the prior months. They spoke for hours, probably the longest that Hermione had ever spoken to them. It was dark when she DisApparated, once they made collective plans to meet again at the same time during the following week. 

One of the things they'd spoken about was what it would be like to be back at Hogwarts. She, of course, filled them in on her conversations with McGonagall, and from there they turned to talking about which students would be coming back. They asked her if she knew about Lily Moon and Sophie Roper, the other two girls that they shared a dormitory with. She didn't know anything at all about their whereabouts, but even when they were all together at Hogwarts, the two girls had been rather . . . aloof, choosing to speak to one another almost exclusively. For Parvati and Lavender, it had been depressing to be at Hogwarts the prior year, not just because of the literal evil wizards that had taken it over, but also because Lily and Sophie left for America during the summer, choosing to finish schooling at Ilvermorny. And, since obviously Hermione hadn't been there either, two people in a five person dorm made it feel empty. 

She slept quite well that night, internally surprised at how much knowing that Lavender was alive and well made her feel better. They'd never been particularly close, and especially in 6th year they'd been in opposition. This was something Hermione apologized profusely for, even writing a letter to her in the summer after that year. 

With the exception of that, she had always been on neutral territory with them, occasionally exchanging gossip, though certainly never as close to them as she could have been. And while her hatred and their love of Divination probably drove them further apart, she'd found talking to them quite enjoyable. 

* * *

**[1 september 1998]**

Predictably, after their first dinner, everyone shuffled up to their dormitories at a near silence. Even the first-years were quiet, so much so that when one sneezed, multiple other young voices hissed at them to be quiet. 

No one stayed up long, just waited long enough for the crowds to thin so they could climb the stairs. 

Being the oldest, they were near the rear of the line. Hermione caught Harry's eye and a silent understanding was reached. 

Two hours later, when Ron's familiar snores were filling the circular room, and he could tell that Neville, Dean, and Seamus were asleep, too, Harry slipped out of the room. He'd never heard the dorms so quiet, yet so filled with students. 

He went down the stairs, slippers muffling the sound of his footsteps. He wasn't surprised to see Hermione already there, sitting in one of the oversized chairs that faced the fireplace. He dropped into the seat next to her and grabbed one of the books from her pile. 

"Is this the History of Magic book?" he asked, making a face. 

"No," she told him absentmindedly, "It's by the same author though. You might find it interesting."

"Why would I find it interesting?" He studied the cover. 

She looked at him, "Harry, when's the last time that you read a book? I mean like picked up a book because you wanted to and not because we were trying to save our own lives by reading fairy tales last year." 

"Well, the last time we were here, when you wanted to research Hogwarts . . ."

"And was it interesting?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, I suppose so."

"And, last question, do you trust me?" she asked. She stared him down until he nodded, then went back to reading, calmly taking notes down onto a piece of parchment.

She was clearly done talking. He just looked down at the book and started to read. 

This turned out to be the start of a new Harry, one that read books about things other than Quidditch, and tried to do assignments in advance. It bothered Ron at first, but he quickly realized that this was a permanent change, and eventually realized that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. So, in all of the time since their first year, they received the best collective marks between them.

For Hermione, this meant relatively little change, but for Harry and Ron, the difference was so vast that Professor McGonagall called to them in the halls one day, telling them that as long as they were being honest about their assignments, she was incredibly proud of them. Hermione didn't stop grinning about it for weeks. 

In the meanwhile, the usual transition from home to Hogwarts was set to be rougher than usual. Professor McGonagall and the other staff members had created an area of the castle, one of the old Astronomy towers, that would featured portraits of all of the students lost in the Battle of Hogwarts, or in any conflict resultant from Voldemort or the Death Eaters. The new faculty were moving in fine, and were thankfully welcomed with open arms by everyone. However, the energy after the start of term dinner truly was representative of the energy of the students. It was about two weeks before the noise in the halls was close to its pre-battle levels. 

* * *

**[24 september 1998]**

As it turned out, Harry was rather antisocial during their first month back at Hogwarts. It was within said first month when he failed an exam, one that he didn't even know he was being given. 

He discovered this one evening, as he poured over a Potions textbook, trying to finish a write-up due the next day. His quill scratched loudly against the parchment as he once again ran out of ink.

"Harry." Ginny dropped into the chair across the table from him. She was clutching a notebook in her hands. 

"Yeah?" he mumbled, deep into a passage about stirring patterns. 

"Can you look at me for a moment? We need to have a serious conversation." 

He looked up at her, eyebrows knitting together in concern. "Is something wrong?"

Ginny placed her notebook onto the table, delicately opening it to the page marked by its ribbon. Said page was covered in numbers and short phrases. 

"I feel like you don't talk to me anymore," she said. 

"We talk every day," Harry told her, growing more confused. 

"I thought so, too. But, when I began to write it down, I started thinking. When did we last go out together?"

He glanced incredulously around the Common Room, as if to remind her that they were at a boarding school. They hadn't even visited Hogsmeade yet. 

"When is the last time that we spent time together, just the two of us? Or when you came up to me and asked to spend time with me?"

Harry suddenly understood. This was her breaking up with him, wasn't it?

"I mean, I still like you," he told her. 

"And I still like you. But, honestly, this feels just like 5th year-" (Harry assumed that she was referring to his own 6th year) "-when we both liked one another but didn't really spend time alone. It's like we're friends again."

He opened his mouth to respond, hoping that the proper words would populate his brain. "Errr . . . so is it just that you want to spend more time together?" 

"No. I mean, yes, I do, but right now, I think we shouldn't be together anymore," she said as she looked him straight in the eye. She shakes her head, "It's not your fault, though. You've just been different, I've never seen you study so much."

"Well it's my 7th year, it's a lot of work," he reasoned. 

"It's my 7th year and I think I'm getting along fine," she argued. 

"You were also at Hogwarts last year, and before September, I hadn't been to a class in over a year," he pointed out, trying to keep from growing defensive. 

"Yes, that's true." She thought about it for a moment before saying, "Regardless, I hope that we can still be friends, I just . . . don't think that now is the best time for us to be together."

Ginny then shut her notebook (which Harry belatedly realized she had basically been reading from), reached across the table to pat one of his hands, gave him a tight smile, and headed up the stairs to her dormitory. 

He nodded slowly as he watched her leave. He was single again. Alone, with no girlfriend, for the first time in nearly half a year. He reached deep into his emotions, waiting to suppress some sudden need to cry or be sad, but the deeper he felt, the more he could only find relief. And, honestly, he was relieved. 

It hadn't been so bad over the summer, when they could sneak off or he could invite her over if they wanted to be alone together. But here, it wasn't that there was a lack of places to go, it was that there were at all moments an abundance of eyes on him. Everywhere that Harry went, it felt like literal groups of other students and faculty were following his every move. This was realized in their first week, when he and Ginny had snuck off, only to be greeted with whoops and cheers when they came back to the Common Room--literally everyone knew they were missing. And it wasn't just that it was mortifying that everybody knew, or thought they knew, what they'd been doing. It was that suddenly, everybody knew they were dating, gossip about it, and when they were bold enough, even come up to ask him or her or one of their friends about it. 

As he sat there, finger still marking a passage that he needed to quote for his write up, it made much more sense. She hadn't ever minded the attention, he had. She was good at laughing off the uncomfortable questions or rumors, but each one he heard made him increasingly more annoyed. Ginny was more than happy to be half of Hogwarts' most popular couple, but Harry absolutely hated it. And, without realizing, he understood that he had probably subconsciously pulled away from her. 

Harry was shaken again from his focus when Hermione and Ron sat next to and across from him. 

"What's up with you, mate?" Ron asked, letting his books fall with a thud onto the table. 

"Where were you guys?" Harry asked, ignoring the question.

"Not sure where he was," Hermione glanced at Ron, "But I was at the library."

Ron motioned to the back of the common room, past the spiral staircases, to one of the sitting areas in front of the windows. "I was playing chess back there, demolished a 7th year--one in Ginny's year." 

Hermione was studying Harry. "What is wrong with you?"

Internally cursing the fact he had been behaving strangely enough to attract both Hermione and Ron's attention he said, "Ginny broke up with me." 

Ron's jaw dropped, Hermione, on the other hand, just made a face. And when he caught her expression, Ron asked, "You knew?"

"Well I really didn't know for certain." She added suddenly at Harry's horrified expression, "And we haven't spoken about you since early summer. She's not told me anything, I was just guessing based on what I've been able to see." 

"You thought there might be something wrong and you didn't bother to tell him?" Ron asked angrily. 

"No, Ronald. I didn't go up to Harry and say, 'I think Ginny might dump you.' Which would have been particularly dumb, I think, especially considering that's probably why he felt uncomfortable," Hermione shot back. 

Ron turned to Harry, waiting for Harry to argue his case. 

"She's right. I mean I still like Ginny, but every time we sat next to each other in here or in the Great Hall, or if we held hands," Harry shook his head, "It felt like we were dating on stage."

"What's wrong with that?" asked Ron. 

Hermione didn't say anything this time, though it was clear to Harry that she understood his feelings better than Ron did. But, then again, that was never Ron's specialty. 

"I dunno, I'm just sort of sick of it. Everyone already knows who I am. They know how my parents died, there are books written about parts of my life . . ." Harry trailed off. 

Neither of his friends had anything to say and they all lapsed into silence. 

Later, when Ron and Harry climbed the stairs, Ron told him, "I'm sorry about you and Ginny." 

"Thanks."

Ron cracked a joke about them both being single, and just like that, things were normal again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! like always, comments are open for anything, especially suggestions!


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how year 8 at hogwarts is going, harry and hermione go on their date, and hermione stretches the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, lots to say. first, sorry for the delay, I kept getting distracted and writing things for later in the story.   
> also: for the sake of my story, and because many things are really unclear in canon, if the first Quidditch game is after Halloween, so let's say November, Saturday the 7th. Based on that, I figure that they probably had tryouts early-mid October, and for the sake of my 'plot', I'm going with mid October. I don't think anyone was worried about this lol but just in case . . .

**[26 September 1998]**

In many ways, the social scene at Hogwarts, especially for Harry and his friends, felt almost like regression to their earlier years. This was mostly due Harry's newly single status, and meant that all of the 8th year Gryffindors were now single. 

It was odd, the now 8 of them hadn't really spent concentrated time together for more than a year, but here they were each day, concentrated into classes that were smaller than ever. 

True to her word, Professor McGonagall made certain that the 7th and 8th years were in separate courses, for pretty much everything other than electives. Though, it wasn't really like having them in the same required courses was an option. It was challenging enough for the professors to teach just the 8th years and make sure they were at the same starting level (in other words: Harry, Hermione, and Ron were not the only ones in the year that hadn't stayed during the Death Eater take over). It was something that had quite stressed her out, three levels of knowledge among students that were technically in the same year? It worked itself out, the students that hadn't gone to school the year before were at around the same level as those that stayed--Death Eater education was at best worthless. Even what she had taught in her own class had been modified to the point where they would have been better suited if they had just read the standardized textbook (which coincidentally had been banned). 

Additionally, since they were usually in groups of two houses for courses, the absence of the entire group of what would be 8th year Slytherins made many classes smaller. Potions, for example, was an intimate affair. It had also been re-required for them to take it, along with the other standard classes, again, due to the mess that the past years had been. 

Hermione quite liked being able to do a comprehensive review of each subject, though pretty much none of the her classmates agreed. What made it tolerable for the other Gryffindors, at least, was the amount of time they spent together. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been in a sort of bubble in their first 6 years at Hogwarts, talking to the other people in their year, but never really sharing anything deep with them. The transition to becoming close to the 5 other students wasn't on purpose, and honestly wasn't something that any of them noticed.

But they all found themselves crowded around tables during the study period in the Great Hall, sharing answers and working together. As they all noticed how close they'd become, they also felt a sense of loss. Harry especially, who had never been anything other than grateful for Hermione and Ron's friendship, saw what they had all been missing. It wasn't as though it was anyone's choice, but it was unfortunate nonetheless. 

The other unforeseen consequence of this new closeness was the sudden discovery that they were all teenagers that hadn't truly done all of the 'teenage things'. Sure, they'd taken swigs of the Fire Whiskey that the older students had taken (sources unknown, though, Fred and George were often the top distributors to younger students), and they'd had big celebrations after winning matches, but they hadn't had the full teenage experience. 

"I mean, yeah, we did some things," Parvati winked at Lavender (a clear reference to Lavender's short-lived 6th year relationship), "but we didn't ever get . . ."

"Hammered?" Hermione offered up sarcastically. 

Parvati rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. We had fun, but we didn't have the reckless and aimless fun. My cousin was here, before we even started first year, and the stories she tells!"

They were all quiet, thinking hard. Hermione pulled her knees to her chin, feeling surprisingly comfortable sitting on the thick circular rug that sat in the middle of their dormitory. 

"I think it sounds quite fun," Lavender said brightly. 

"But, even if we do decide to get hammered, how are we supposed to actually get anything? How do we decide who to invite? When do we do it?" Hermione's practical approach attracted a look of annoyance from them, and she quickly explained, "I want to do it, though."

Parvati stood from her cross-legged position on the rug and walked over the window, thinking. "The easiest part is getting drinks, we're all legally able to buy it. Even though we haven't gone to Hogsmeade yet, one us can just put an order in. I don't even think anything's regulated here. The harder part will be where to go. Yates really makes McGonagall seem soft." 

Professor Yates was part of the new faculty, chosen to be the Gryffindor Head of House. She ran a tight ship, even requiring twice daily check-ins for the Prefects and Head Boy and Girl. She'd even put a charm on the Common Room, alerting her if the volume level got too high after the students were expected to be in bed. 

"I'd say the Room of Requirement, but Harry said he tried in first week back and it didn't work . . . there must be other places, though," Hermione said. 

"What about the Astronomy Towers?" Lavender suggested. 

"Lavender, you know that's where all the third and fourth years have their first experiences," Parvati laughed. 

Hermione did not know. She would probably bet that Harry and Ron didn't either. (They didn't, though even Neville did.)

"Any ideas?" Lavender asked, looking at Hermione. 

"Not off the top of my head. Anywhere like an empty classroom we'll just get caught, obviously can't have it in here, I'll have to do some research," she stood and started to climb into bed. 

The other two did the same and quickly fell asleep. Hermione, however, patiently waited for the sound of their breathing to slow and slow and finally even out, before she grabbed the book from her bedside table, slid her feet into her slippers, and snuck down the stairs. 

This was, of course, one of many instances of her nighttime meetings with Harry. She was always tired the next day, but when they were together at night, she could tell how little he usually slept. He beat her downstairs tonight and was crouched in front of one of the smaller fireplaces, quietly muttering as he attempted to light it. 

"What are you doing?" she asked as she sat into a chair behind him. 

"Lighting the fire," he stood once he'd gotten it right and the flames burst to life, "clearly I need to work on my Nonverbal spells." He picked the chair next to her, taking the book from her outreached hand without complaint. 

He knew she must be quite tired and understood that it was a trade for her: she'd stay up with him as long as he did something productive. He also knew that he was more than welcome to go back on the trade, and do something else other than the reading, homework, and studying that they did--but that would mean that he would be doing it alone. They usually didn't speak much, making it quite jarring when Hermione suddenly spoke up.

"Do you ever think that we sort of missed out being normal teenagers?" she asked. 

Where had this come from? he wondered.

"I was talking with Parvati and Lavender earlier tonight, and they were saying that the third and fourth years get handsy in the Astronomy Towers. Did you know that?" She continued, "I certainly didn't. I mean, when I think back to _our_ third and fourth years, I understand why. But, still, what crazy things did we do?"

"Hermione, I'm sure you haven't forgotten the war that we fought in that ended less than half a year ago?" he asked incredulously. 

"No, no," she waved him off. "Like normal stuff. Sneaking out and drinking Fire Whiskey . . . I just can't believe that we're already adults, since it feels like we never got to be children." 

She had a point, he had to admit. Even their errr . . . socially active sixth year was fairly tame. "What are you saying exactly?"

"I think we need to experience what it's like to be carefree. Which is where you come in," she said. 

Something flashed through his mind before he answered, "Sure, what's that?"

"Well, we obviously all need somewhere to go, and the Room of Requirement would be the best choice for that-"

"It was destroyed, though. I thought I told you and Ron that?" he interrupted. 

"-which is why I was going to suggest that we start looking for another place," she mostly ignored him. 

"Didn't we already try this summer? To find out more about the castle?"

She pursed her lips. "Yes, but this summer we were only reading. Plus, we only had a week--less than that if you take off the two days we spent on the train."

He nodded slowly, "So what's the plan this time?"

"Well you said that last time Dobby told you about the Room of Requirement . . ." she suggested.

"You think we should ask the house elves?" He secretly wondered if this was just another plot of hers to get to see them more often. 

"We should ask everyone, the elves, the ghosts, the paintings," she was writing down the ideas on a piece of parchment.

He nodded again, "When will we do this? We don't exactly have loads of free time."

"We don't need loads of free time," she motioned between herself and him, "there's 8 of us, in total. And if each of us spends a half hour a day searching the castle, we'll find somewhere in no time."

Harry was still wondering what had made her so suddenly passionate about this idea, and Hermione sensed this confusion. 

"I've read about so many things, at this point I've probably spent entire months of my life reading. But I feel as though I haven't done anything, like I've been living other people's lives, and I've been so busy trying to stay alive--I just want to be able to look back on experiences of my own rather than the experiences of others."

He sighed quietly, then looked at her, silently agreeing to give her plan a try.

When he went to bed later, a couple hours before sunrise, he fell asleep thinking how grateful he was to be friends with her. 

* * *

**[present day, 2002]**

The more he told himself he wasn't nervous, the less he believed it. In truth, he wasn't nervous. He knew Hermione very well, he knew they would have something to talk about, food to eat, stuff to drink. In that sense, he wasn't nervous. 

But that wasn't what a date was. It was romantic . . . something meant to be different than friendship. Harry didn't know what a date would actually look like for the two of them. 

To alleviate the worry about what would happen, he kept the plans simple. Like, crazy simple. The agenda was something like: cook together, eat in the dining room, and end with a film.

The planning really was the easiest part. Because yes, he did know her quite well, but also it was something that he'd thought about for months. He'd considered every sort of date. Maybe a formal dinner? Brunch? A hike? Apparate to a foreign country for a day? 

But, as he thought about what they liked to do together, he considered how small of a step it was between their activities being as friends versus as a couple. They really had gotten into such comfortable habits, really gotten to know each other, so it seemed to Harry that this next step was logical. Do what they normally do, but . . . flirt?

He ran through his checklist: he'd done the necessary cleaning, picked up ingredients, literally written down what the agenda was. All he needed to do now was get dressed, and wait. 

* * *

"Harry?" she asked, once she'd finished chewing the spaghetti in her mouth. 

He rose his eye brows at her, wordlessly acknowledging her.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, then tugged anxiously on its end, "If we do this again . . ."

"Yeah," he nodded in agreement. 

"Should we maybe keep quiet?"

"Like a secret, you mean?" he asked. 

"No!" Hermione started folding her napkin, "I don't mean like a secret, but like just not publicizing what's going on . . ."

His eyebrows dropped and came together, brow furrowed. "Is that not keeping it a secret?"

"Well no. I mean . . . what I'm trying to say is, how did Ron react when you told him I said yes?" she asked.

"Nothing. He just turned around and wrote you a letter."

"And when I told Ginny, she acted like it was fine, but later when I had her over she said she wasn't worried because it wasn't like anything would come of it." She let out a hollow laugh, "she even said that we wouldn't have anything to talk about." 

He just rolled his eyes, "I'd hope that over a decade of being best friends would prove that wrong."

She actually laughed at that. Her face turned serious, "But you understand what I'm saying, right?"

"Yeah, I understand the concept, and why we should do it. What I'm not clear on is how? Wouldn't it just be us lying to them and everyone else?"

"So, I've been thinking that if they explicitly ask, we'll be honest. But if they simply ask, 'how did it go?', we can just say okay. If they ask, 'will it happen again?', we can just shrug and say that we don't know."

Harry nodded slowly, considering it. "You've really thought this over, haven't you?"

Her cheeks went pink. "I mean, I figured that it would go alright . . ." She hit his arm lightly as he raised his eyebrows. "Oh shut up, you can't act as though you didn't think the same thing."

Hermione was right. Though Harry's nervousness to plan their evening had overwhelmed any concern of what might come next. 

"I suppose, we did sort of have a test run, after all." His eyes were on his plate, endlessly twirling a noodle on his fork. 

"Yes," she drops her face onto her hand, elbow on the table, "I suppose we did." She was quiet for a moment before saying, "I wonder, sometimes, what it would be like if we'd just gone for it?"

"I think about it, too. Honestly, though, we were so young back then . . . anyways, enough business talk, let's go watch a film."

Once he'd made the plates disappear, grabbed the bottle of wine, and Hermione had grabbed their glasses, they made their way to the sitting room. She sat on the sofa, grinning as Newt curled up her lap. 

"You really are the only person he'll sit on," Harry said as he refilled their glasses. 

She knew. She knew because she was observant, Harry had mentioned it before, and the little fact that it had been a point of contention in the past. 

It was a dinner, a double date. They'd gone out to dinner, Harry and Ginny, Hermione and Ron, and came back to Number 12 to hang out a little more. When Ginny found Hermione alone in the kitchen (having gone to get bread but had taken more than the minute required for the task) and realized that she was perched on the counter, Newt purring loudly as she petted him. Ginny was shocked into silence, standing still until she gained the presence of mind to slowly approach in hopes being able to really pet her boyfriend's elusive cat. As soon as she got within an arm's length, he sprinted off. 

Everything was fine with them for a bit, until Newt came up to Hermione again, Ginny again attempted an approach, and (yes, again) Newt streaked off. She dropped into a chair in a huff, muttering about how horrible she must be for the cat to hate her. 

Harry went up to her, patting her arm, explaining that it was just that Hermione had spent more time with Newt. He was going for comforting, but this was decidedly not comforting to her. 

Harry and Hermione were forced to explain Hermione often came over to 12. They didn't do anything interesting, and sometimes they didn't even speak beyond greetings. It was just that they both lived alone and sometimes wanted some company, which is how Hermione had sometimes spent hours a day at his house. (And also how he spent hours at her flat, though they didn't mention it them, feeling it would make the conversation worse than it already was.)

Ron was upset because he felt left out-- if they were doing nothing anyways, then what was stopping them from inviting him? Ginny pretty much felt the same way. That night ended pretty quickly and it took a couple weeks for things to go back to normal. 

"I know," she said softly. 

When he sat next to her, it didn't seem like it was unreasonably close--it was well within the distance they usually sat to one another. But Hermione suddenly noticed how close they usually sat, close enough that their legs were practically pressed against the other person's. Her cheeks went pink again. 

* * *

**[30 September 1998]**

It was the next day, late on Sunday evening when Harry made a startling discovery. He came down from his dormitory, having retrieved another quill, and spotted his cat, curled up on the mantle of the main common room fire place. 

The alarming part, however, was the presence of three 3rd year girls, crowded close to the fire place. One was holding a notebook and writing something down, the others looking and pointing. Their attention was focused on Harry's tiny pet cat. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, walking up to them. 

At the sound of his voice, almost in unison, their eyes widened and they backed out of his way. He reached onto the mantle, scooping Newt up. 

Two of them whispered to one another for a second before one said, "Sorry, we didn't mean him any harm. He's just really cute."

"Is he yours?" the third girl asked. 

Harry nodded. 

"What's his name?"

"Erm . . . Newt. But what were you doing?" he asked impatiently.

"It's sort of a game, you see. He's all over the Common Room, some times even around the castle. We kept noticing the weird spots we'd see him in,

"Those girls seem a little young for you, Harry," Dean said as Harry sat down. Seamus and Ron snickered. "I mean, we knew you liked younger girls, but . . ."

Harry waited for them to quiet down. "They've started a fan club. For my cat." 

There was no quieting them after that. 

It should be noted, though, that the fan club, now fondly named the Newt Finders was not localized to Gryffindor. This was yet another unsettling discovery that Harry made a week later, when he saw a group of 2nd to 5th year Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs in the library. His jaw dropped when he saw the green pins on each of their robes. He was even more uncomfortable when Luna sat next to him, wearing the same pin, with _Newt Finders_ emblazoned on it in animated dancing letters. 

Clubs had apparently taken off at Hogwarts, something that Harry noticed when he saw Ron posting signs for his chess club. The club was mostly a way for Ron to find new students to beat, but he told Harry that he could see a tournament happening in the future. 

Harry, on the other hand, was anxiously awaiting the start of Quidditch season, and, in the meanwhile, was focused on school work. He never realized how much time and energy they all spent worrying and planning, but now it seemed like they had nothing but time. His new fascination with school work was only furthered by Hermione, who was putting her pre-war self to shame in terms of sheer number of books read. 

The two of them had a mostly unspoken tradition of bi-weekly nights in the common room, spent talking and reading. And it was actually the third book that she recommended that had him hooked, reading it in the halls on the way to classes, after he'd finished his essays, literally whenever he could. 

This led to three straight nights of discussion in the common room between the two of them. Which in turn caught the attention of Neville, who read the book and quickly joined it. And, before they knew it, there were more than 11 other students that had read the book based on the recommendation. 

"I've always wanted to start a book club," Hermione said, dragging her finger along the spines of the books in the library. That was when Harry realized that he had become a founding member of a book club. "I've been thinking about it for a while, I honestly didn't think that others would be interested." She laughed, "last year, you wouldn't have been interested."

"Yeah, I think we had other things to worry about," he said sagely. 

She laughed again, then looked at him, "Thank you, though. I mean it."

"I mean, I think we've all gotten more into studying this year, even Ron," he said.

"Yes, that's quite true." She was quiet as she pulled out a book and scanned the table on contents. "Either way, I'm glad that so many people joined the book club." 

"Is it . . ." he scratched his head, "because of us?"

She shook her head. After Neville had joined, along with the next three members, she had posted a paper on the bulletin board in the Common Room (after gaining approval from their new Head of House). Similar to the sign up paper for the DA, she put a charm on it, concealing the fact that she or Harry were involved in the club at all. She explained this to him. 

"Oh," he said, mood lightening. He had noticed that the members seemed to genuinely enjoy reading and talking about books, and even though there were moments when he felt everyone's eyes on him, truly studying him as though they could barely believe he was there in front of them, he was mostly treated normally. 

In all honesty, he didn't love the discussions as much as the others did, reading was alright (though it did occasionally become boring), but he wasn't doing it for himself. He didn't know if she could tell, but the same reason that he'd listen to Ron go on about chess strategies was why he participated in this extracurricular. It made her happy, and if she was willing to stay up two to three nights a week and sacrifice multiple hours of sleep, then he'd spend some free time discussing fictional stories written by goblins in the 18th century. 

For Hermione, it was easy to do. Much easier than trying to join Ron's rather unofficial chess club (which had morphed from Ron beating younger students into a strangely intense weekly tournament). 

How had he chosen to befriend the people whose past times were chess and reading?

* * *

**[present day, 2002]**

"How did it go?" Ginny asked as she hung her bag on the hook next to the front door of Hermione's flat. 

Hermione had practiced this in the mirror for the past two nights, schooling her expressions and choosing her words carefully. "It went alright, I suppose." 

"Will you do it again?" There was an element of forced casualness in her voice. 

Hermione's shoulder lifted and shrugged (just like she watched herself do repeatedly), "I'm not sure. Maybe not." 

Ginny was unaware of the rehearsed nature of her actions, but Hermione could clearly see when Ginny suppressed a look of relief. 

She felt guilty, though she and Harry had worked out the fact that it was not technically lying, it was just telling part of truth. She had--of course--argued that lying by omission was just lying by a fancier name, but that it also was saving some unnecessary drama.

Yes, she told herself, a new relationship came with enough drama on its own and absolutely didn't necessitate the involvement of two parties (both with a last name that rhymed with Heasley) that probably had a vested interest in them not dating. 

It wasn't ideal, and Hermione had always felt that their dating choices had complicated their social network (she had broken up with her best friend, who was also best friends with her other best friend, who had been dating the first best friend's sister--and that was without adding in any of the other people they'd dated), but as adults they were more than free to choose to date whomever they desired. 

"What did you do?"

"Just stayed in, cooked together, watched a film," Hermione told her. 

Ginny bit her lip and Hermione could again read her underlying emotions like a book. "That's not much of a date, is it?"

"I suppose it doesn't have to be," Hermione responded absently, cursing herself internally for nearly blushing at the memory of Harry kissing her on the cheek before she DisApparated. What was she, fourteen years old?

They were silent for a moment, Ginny gently playing tug of war with Dickens over a hair ribbon. "So you two aren't going to keep dating?"

"Like I said before, I'm not sure," Hermione said again. 

"But do you think you will?" Ginny pressed on. 

"I don't know," Hermione said as she tried to unclench her teeth, "I guess maybe not." 

That was clearly the answer that Ginny had been waiting for, because there was no more mention of the date for the remainder of the evening. 

It made her quite spiteful, and the more that she pressed for answer, the more that Hermione felt that growing desire to tell her everything. That no, it hadn't been a miserable date, yes, it would be happening again, and no, this was far from the first time that anything that happened between herself and Harry. 

Did that make her a bad person? After repeated questioning she was thinking the answer was no. 

When Ginny left, Hermione let out a great sigh of relief and laid back onto her bed. She asked herself another question, did Ginny really believe that she was going to get back with Harry?

Sure, they'd broken up before, but this was the longest since 8th year, and was the only one (other than 8th year) when Harry expressed utter certainty that they were done for good. 

She sat back up, figuring it would probably be best to keep him appraised of the night's events, especially if they were to effectively keep up the idea that the date had been a one-off. 

Hermione laughed out loud as she realized how ridiculous her life had become. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, sorry again for the delay! let me know if you have any comments, questions, or complaints. didn't proof a whole bunch so let me know if there are errors!

**Author's Note:**

> (I should also probably mention that errors are to be expected since I've written all of this pretty hastily with close to no forethought. I might end up changing stuff down the road, I have no idea yet, though.)


End file.
